


A Time For Everything

by cowgirl65



Category: The Big Valley
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, spoilers for A Time To Kill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-12
Updated: 2012-11-26
Packaged: 2017-11-16 04:49:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/535675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowgirl65/pseuds/cowgirl65
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a story based on the first season episode "A Time To Kill".   </p><p>There must have been something special between Jarrod and Brett for Jarrod to always have his half of the coin in his pocket.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Time To Plant

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own The Big Valley and make no money from this.

“To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:  
A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;  
A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to destroy, and a time to construct;  
A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;  
A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;  
A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;  
A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;  
A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.”  
 _-Ecclesiastes 3:1-8_

 

The young man knocked on the door of Mrs. Campbell’s boarding house and waited. His hand involuntarily clenched on the travel-stained letter. He was tired, hungry and travel-stained from the arduous journey and ruthlessly pushed back the fear that there wouldn’t be a room waiting for him. If there wasn’t, there wasn’t, he told himself, and he’d just find another place to spend the night. But he dismissed his fears as foolish; the room had been guaranteed to him until the term started and he had made it with a couple days to spare.

The door opened. “May I help you?” A matronly woman gave him a stern once-over and he hoped she’d understand that he hadn’t had a chance for a real bath since he left New York.

“Mrs. Campbell?” She nodded curtly and he tipped his slightly beaten up hat. “My name’s Jarrod Barkley, ma’am.” He held out the letter. “My father arranged for lodgings here while I attend the university.”

Jarrod tried not to fidget while the woman perused the letter.

“You’re on the top floor,” she finally said, but didn’t move to let him in. “You’ll be sharing with another student and I expect you to abide by the rules. No drinking, no carousing, no gambling and no loose women. Coal is delivered on the first of the month and you’re expected to provide your own meals unless you arrange with me beforehand. Is that understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.” The rules weren’t any different than what he was used to at home, but Jarrod hoped his roommate was a good cook or they’d be getting tired of beans and flapjacks very quickly.

She handed him a key and stood aside. “Stairs right ahead, three floors up, room number 7.”

“Thank you.” Jarrod picked up his bags and headed up the narrow stairs. The place was clean and well kept. He had a twinge of homesickness for the cozy house he grew up in and even the enormous mansion that he still hadn’t quite gotten used to even after living there for the past three years. But the hope of a bath, even if he had to heat the water himself, and a real bed rather than a narrow hammock or wooden train seat almost made up for it.

Reaching the top floor, Jarrod walked down the narrow hallway until he found the door with a brass 7 on it. The dean of the university had written that Mrs. Campbell had taken in students for many years, the accommodations were modern and there was never any report of problems. His mother had still been concerned about her eldest being so far away, but the idea of a motherly landlady had helped put her mind at ease.

The door opened smoothly and the hall was flooded with light. Jarrod breathed a sigh of relief at the sunshine coming through the windows. He’d spent most of his life outdoors in sunny California and his biggest worry was that he’d be living in a small dark closet.

“You must be Jarrod Barkley.” A brown haired, hazel eyed young man got up from the window seat, came over and stuck out his hand. “Brett Schuyler.”

Jarrod shook his new roommate’s hand. His grip was sure and strong and the easy smile on his face caused Jarrod to think they would soon be friends. “Nice to meet you, Brett.”

Brett eyed him critically and wrinkled his nose. “You need a bath,” he stated bluntly.

“It’s been a long trip,” Jarrod explained sheepishly.

“That’s right.” Brett didn’t seem fazed. “Campbell said you’re from California. Did you come around the Horn or overland?” He grabbed his hat before Jarrod had a chance to respond. “There’s a laundry only a couple blocks away. If you got two bits, you can get your things cleaned and a bath to boot. You can tell me about your trip on the way there.”

Jarrod didn’t even need to think. He picked up the bag that held his clothes. “Sounds like heaven.”

“So how’d you get out here?” the genial young man asked as they walked. 

Jarrod thought back over the weeks and wished a transcontinental railroad was more than still a dream. “ I took a ship to the new railroad across the isthmus of Panama, took the train across the isthmus, then sailed up to New York before taking a train to St. Louis, so…” It had been just after his mother’s birthday when he left Stockton and that meant the trip had taken… “Almost two months.” At least it was less dangerous than the trip around Cape Horn or the almost four months immigrants took overland on the California Trail.

Brett whistled. “And I thought a week on just a train was long. You must either be crazy or desperate to get away from home.” 

“If I could’ve gotten a law degree closer to home, I would have,” Jarrod said defensively. He didn’t want to give Brett the idea that his family was anything less than supportive of his decision to attend St. Louis University.

Brett laughed and slung an arm around Jarrod’s shoulders. “Crazy then. We’re gonna get along just fine, Jarrod.”

Once at the laundry, Jarrod handed over his spare clothes and was shown to a steaming tub. He stripped to the skin, stepped into the steaming water and sighed in contentment. Relaxing, Jarrod let his mind drift back to when he’d announced his intention to study law to his family. He knew there would be objections; his father always talked about the two of them running the ranch together and he didn’t think anyone’s mother would be happy that her son would be at least 2000 miles away. But after seeing how careful his father was when making deals and knowing how easy it was for an unscrupulous man to word a contract to cheat someone out of his life savings, Jarrod knew he had to be a lawyer.

He’d done careful research and after a long evening of debate, his parents finally agreed to let him go to St. Louis University to study law. Jarrod didn’t actually need their permission, he was seventeen and old enough to make his own decisions. But he loved and respected his parents and it set his heart at ease to know he had their blessing.

Everyone else thought he was crazy, though, and Jarrod smiled to himself as he relaxed deeper into the hot water when he recalled Brett saying that very thing. He could have just read law with a local lawyer, but Jarrod wanted to be more than a glorified clerk. He wanted to be as well-read as Thomas Jefferson, John Adams and other great men he admired. Even he thought he was slightly mad at times during the long trip east, but now he was finally here and hoped it had all been worth it.


	2. A Time To Laugh

“Shh, Jarrod, I hear something!”

Jarrod froze, teacup in hand. Try as he might though, all he heard was the ticking of the clock in the hall. “Stop being so jumpy,” he scolded his friend as he ran the glue brush around the base of the cup and set it firmly on the saucer. 

Brett put the stuck-together cup and saucer carefully in the cupboard. “We are so dead if she catches us.”

“Just like when you covered rice in stove blacking to make her think there were mice in the pantry?” Jarrod teased as he finished gluing the last cup. “Don’t worry, when my brother and I did this the china came right apart when it was washed.” He made sure everything was back the way it had been before clapping Brett on the shoulder. “C’mon, I bet supper’s ready.”

The two law students managed to contain their laughter on the way up the stairs from their landlady’s apartment. Jarrod didn't think Mrs. Campbell was quite the tyrant she seemed; if she was, she would probably root out the practical jokers amongst her boarders and he wondered if she secretly enjoyed the attention. None of their pranks were harmful or malicious, after all; Jarrod was telling the truth of how the fish glue he’d concocted would dissolve in water.

The savoury smell of stew wafted from their apartment. It was Jarrod’s luck that Brett turned out to be a good cook and Jarrod had learned a few things from him over the past several weeks. They spent a companionable dinner together before hitting the books for a couple hours before bed.

Jarrod was in his element. He loved being at the university, debating points of law, discussing the views of the philosophers and basically basking in the company of like-minded people. It wasn’t easy, but Brett was one of those students who just breezed though class and Jarrod owed him for all the help he so readily gave. He did miss the wide-open spaces of his family’s ranch though, and even if his younger brother wasn’t academically inclined, he missed hanging out with Nick.

But as a wadded-up bit of paper landed squarely in the middle of the book, Jarrod smiled. Rooming with Brett wasn’t boring and the devilment they got up to when they had a chance kept him from being too homesick.

“I’m turning in,” he announced, not bothering to volley the paper back, but he knew he’d retaliate later.

Brett sighed and stretched. “Yeah, we do have to be up early for Richmond’s class.” 

Jarrod marvelled at how easy they were with each other as they stripped for bed. Not that there was much privacy sharing the small apartment and modesty had long ago been discarded between the two young men. Jarrod tried not to stare at Brett’s bare form, but he couldn’t help a surreptitious glance. Brett’s chest was as smooth as his own, unlike his father and a lot of the men who worked on their ranch. That smoothness carried down to his navel and then light hair trailed down further.

Jarrod quickly crawled under his covers before Brett could notice how his dick twitched at the sight of Brett’s own large package. It was something that he would never admit unless cornered and probably not even then. He liked women and he wasn’t a virgin either. When some of his classmates passed around lewd photographs, he found the images of men and women _in flagrante delicto_ arousing just as they did. But he had to admit that it was seeing a huge cock penetrating a willing partner that got his attention more than the big tits and pert bottoms that the others seemed enthralled with.

Trying to rid himself of the unsettling feelings, Jarrod squirmed under the covers. There was no way he was going to get himself off with Brett right there but he didn’t know how long it was going to take for his erection to subside on its own.

“Something wrong?” came Brett’s voice from his bed in the corner.

“It’s nothing.”

Jarrod heard Brett snort. “Nothing wouldn’t be making you keep me up.” A pillow sailed across the room. “Go to sleep.”

Jarrod wasn’t going to let that go unanswered. The pillow sailed back and Jarrod smiled in satisfaction when he heard Brett’s grunt as it hit him.

“Now that means war.”

Jarrod didn’t have time to prepare before Brett was over at his bed and pounding him with the offending pillow. Scrambling out of the bed, Jarrod dove for Brett’s knees and took him down. The two men wrestled playfully on the floor until Brett pinned Jarrod. Or thought he’d pinned him. Jarrod hooked a leg under Brett’s, managed to flip him and used his weight to hold him down.

That was when he noticed Brett’s cock was as hard as his own and Brett’s hips were pushing it against him. He moved off quickly, breathing heavy and glad it was dark so Brett didn’t see the flush on his face.

“Jarrod, I’m sorry… I didn’t mean…” Jarrod could hear a tremor of fear as Brett’s voice trailed off in the darkness.

Jarrod could believe Brett was worried. He’d known of men who were beat almost to death for daring to be aroused by other men. He hadn’t been brought up that way himself; there was a pair of men working the Barkley ranch who were bunkmates in every sense of the word. They were also two of his father’s best and hardest working hands and when Jarrod found out and approached Tom about it, his father just nodded and reminded his oldest son that there were many kinds of people in the world and to live and let live as long as no one was being harmed.

“Don’t worry about it, Brett. No harm done.” Even if Brett was attracted to him, he’d never made any overtures until this impromptu wrestling match. Jarrod didn’t think his supposed virtue was in any danger.

He heard the sigh of relief and then the hesitant question, “You don’t have any interests that way, do you?”

Jarrod told his twitching cock to stand down, glad that Brett couldn’t see. “Not that I know of.” It wasn’t a lie, he told himself, he truly didn’t know what he was feeling.

“I’ll help you pack in the morning.”

“Why?” The word was out of Jarrod’s mouth before he realized he already knew. Brett obviously thought he wouldn’t want to be anywhere near him after tonight and he decided to keep it light. “Tired of me already?”

“No, I just thought…”

Jarrod scooted over to sit by his friend. “Brett, I don’t go around forcing myself on every girl I find attractive. I don’t think you’re any different.”

A relieved chuckle came from the dark. “Nope, I’ve never forced myself on a girl.”

Jarrod gave Brett a hard jab in the ribs with his elbow. “Funny man.” He stood and helped Brett to his feet. “Good night, Brett.”

“Goodnight, Jarrod. And thanks.”

This time, Jarrod did his best to lie still while the conflicting thoughts and sensations kept him awake until the wee hours of the morning.


	3. A Time To Weep

Jarrod tried to ignore the familiar voices and the clatter of footsteps in the hall, but it was hard. He gritted his teeth against the wave of homesickness and concentrated on his book instead of feeling jealous that Nat Springer was able to go home to Chicago for Christmas and that he was taking Phil Archer, another of their classmates, with him. He wasn’t jealous that Nat had asked Phil, even though he couldn’t understand why anyone would bring that weasely rat home. Jarrod pondered breaking into their lodgings and stashing a dead fish somewhere while they were gone where it would be nearly impossible to find. But even if Phil deserved it for the way he ratted Jarrod and Brett out for painting black stripes on Prof. Richmond’s mare, Nat didn’t and besides, the stench would likely make its way to their place too.

No, it was just the fact that the trip to Stockton was too long for him to be able to see his family over the holidays. In fact, it was probably too long to even go back in between terms and he knew he likely wouldn’t see them again until after he graduated. Jarrod took a deep breath. He was an adult, he reminded himself, and he didn’t need his parents to look after him. But they had always been close and he missed them terribly along with his brother Nick and little Audra, who was young enough that she might not even remember her big brother when he finally returned home.

Jarrod was grateful that the knock on the door broke him from his thoughts before any tears trickled down his cheeks. He opened it to find his landlady holding a large package.

“This was just delivered for you, Mr. Barkley.” She handed the brown paper wrapped parcel over to him. “I understand you and Mr. Schuyler are staying here over the holiday?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Jarrod’s spirit lightened when he saw that the parcel was from home, but was then surprised when Mrs. Campbell said, “You are both welcome to share Christmas dinner with myself and my sister if you wish.”

“That’s very kind of you,” he replied when the surprise had passed. “I’m not sure if I can speak for Brett, but I’d be honoured to join you.”

The matronly woman smiled. “We’ll see you at two o’clock for dinner day after tomorrow then.” She turned away and Jarrod closed the door. He and Brett had planned to treat themselves to the Christmas dinner put on by the prestigious Planter House Hotel, but a hotel dinner, no matter how sumptuous, didn’t compare in Jarrod’s mind to a home-cooked meal and he hoped Brett would agree.

Jarrod took his parcel to the table. When he couldn’t get the tightly knotted string untied, he retrieved a knife from a drawer in the small sideboard, cut it and tore off the brown paper. Eagerly opening the box, Jarrod first took out the letter on top. He read the short missive from his mother wishing him a happy holiday and explaining that there was a gift included for Brett as well as for him.

Jarrod smiled. In the letters that were sent and arrived every week, Jarrod had written about his studies and the friends he was making, especially Brett. It was just like his mother to include something for his roommate as well.

He pulled out the tissue wrapped packages from his parents, brother and even one from his little sister, the printing on the tag in a childish hand making him smile more. At the bottom of the box were cut out angels and stars like the ones he and Nick used to make. Again, Jarrod had to fight off the homesickness that threatened to overwhelm him as he hung them on the pine boughs they’d placed in the window to make the room more festive.

He turned at the sound of the door opening. “Hey, Brett,” he greeted.

“What do you have there?” Brett asked as he hung his coat and hat by the door.

“A Christmas package from my family.” Jarrod grinned. “They sent something for you too.”

The flash of pain on Brett’s face was gone so quickly that Jarrod almost didn’t see it. Brett hadn’t said why he wasn’t leaving for Christmas, even though he was only a short train ride away from his home in Columbus, and Jarrod hadn’t thought it was his place to ask. “That was thoughtful of them,” was Brett’s only response.

Jarrod could see the stiffness in Brett’s shoulders as he put away the clean laundry he’d brought home. Thinking back, he didn’t remember Brett ever receiving a letter or anything else from home. No, another man’s life wasn’t his business, but Brett wasn’t just another man, he was Jarrod’s friend. He walked over and squeezed Brett’s shoulder. “You okay? If you want to talk…” He felt a bit of the tension leave Brett’s muscles.

“My father won’t be sending anything,” Brett said, bitterness in his eyes as he turned to face Jarrod. “He’s only paying my tuition, room and board to keep me out of his sight.” Then his expression changed and he looked away. “He caught me in the carriage house with the valet. We were… well, you know.”

Jarrod was pretty sure he did know as he gripped Brett’s shoulder in reassurance. They hadn’t talked about it since that night when Brett revealed he was sexually attracted to men and Jarrod was almost able to push it aside just like when he worked with Abe or Henry back home. Almost, but not quite. The couple back at the ranch were grizzled veterans of life on the range, not a tall well-favoured man with the physique of a classical statue who gave him appreciative glances when he thought Jarrod wouldn’t notice. Glances that Jarrod found himself returning more often than he liked to admit.

And sometimes, late at night, he’d touch himself as he wondered what it would be like to be stroked by Brett or to have another man’s penis in his own hand. He wondered how it would feel to taste lips surrounded by stubble, to have another hard organ pushing against his and have those muscular arms hold him tightly as he spewed his hot seed against Brett’s belly.

Jarrod shook his head and adjusted his pants while Brett wasn’t looking. He didn’t want to give Brett the wrong idea when he wasn’t sure what he wanted himself. Instead, he tried to cheer Brett up, even if only a little. “At least we won’t have to eat dinner at a hotel. Mrs. Campbell invited us to join her.”

Brett smiled wanly. “That was nice of her. Do you think she’d like us to bring some sherry or at least a bottle of wine?”

Jarrod shrugged. “I don’t see why not.” Then he grinned. “She probably wouldn’t appreciate it if we brought that jug of corn whiskey we smuggled up here.”

That elicited a chuckle from Brett. “If we’re going to pick something up, it should be today. The stores’ll be closed tomorrow and for the holiday.” He punched Jarrod’s arm playfully. “You can probably afford it more than I can.”

“Good idea.” Jarrod retrieved his hat and coat. “Don’t open the presents while I’m gone,” he warned over his shoulder as he left and was gratified to hear Brett laugh.

 

Along with a bottle of wine and one of sherry, Jarrod picked up a couple fine linen handkerchiefs for his landlady and her sister as tokens of appreciation for their thoughtfulness in extending the invitation to him and Brett. He’d already gotten a box of fine cigars for his roommate and the presents to his family had been sent over a month ago so they’d make it to Stockton in time for Christmas. Again he felt a pang of homesickness as he walked down the hall to the apartment and sent a thought of good wishes to his family.

He didn’t see Brett right away when he walked in. No lamps were lit in the growing darkness of evening and the room was in shadows. “Brett?” he asked as he lit a lamp. Then he did see Brett at the table and the unstoppered jug of whiskey sitting beside him. His hazel eyes were bleary and Jarrod saw the tracks of tears on his cheeks.

Setting down his purchases, Jarrod went to his friend’s side. “Brett? What’s wrong?”

Brett didn’t speak, he just thrust a piece of paper at Jarrod. Jarrod took it and unfolded it to read the telegram message.

_Brett Schuyler_

_Father passed away -stop- carriage accident -stop- at his request no funeral -stop- will be in touch after holiday -stop_

_Wm. Barrnett, esq. ___

Jarrod looked back at Brett to find him staring into nothingness. “I’m sorry.” It wasn’t even close to adequate, but Jarrod couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“You know what the last thing he said to me was? That I was an abomination and that he no longer had a son.” Brett took another swig from the jug before he looked Jarrod straight in the eye. “And you know what I said back? I said it didn’t matter because he’d never been much of a father anyway.” That was when the sobs started. “I loved him, Jarrod, he was the best father I could ever imagine and I told him he didn’t matter. I let him down and now I’ll never be able to tell him how much I loved him.”

Jarrod got down on his knees and wrapped his arms tightly around Brett’s shaking form. He couldn’t even imagine how Brett must be feeling and made a silent vow to tell his own father how much he loved and admired him every chance he got as he tried to comfort his friend.

Slowly the shaking stopped. Jarrod rubbed Brett’s back reassuringly and Brett turned his head to look at him. “Thanks, Jarrod,” he said quietly.

Their faces were only inches away from each other and Jarrod could feel Brett’s warm breath on his cheek. Slowly, Brett leaned forward until they were almost touching and then he kissed Jarrod longingly on the lips.

Jarrod was too shocked to even pull away. He let Brett’s mouth explore his as his senses reeled. He could hardly notice any roughness on Brett’s lip and wondered absently if he had managed to shave that close as well. Brett’s hand came up to cup his cheek and Jarrod’s attention turned to the strong fingers that stroked his skin and the growing heat in his pants.

Suddenly, Brett’s lips were gone and Jarrod realized he’d been holding his breath as he gasped for air.

“Oh, god, Jarrod, I’m sorry!” Brett’s expression was a mix of horror and shame. He tried to get up and get away, but when the chair pushed back, he stumbled and fell into Jarrod.

Jarrod held on tightly as Brett struggled to get away. He couldn’t abandon his friend when he was in pain from his father’s rejection and his subsequent rejection of him. Jarrod knew Brett was attracted to him and if he accepted Brett’s attentions it might go a long way in healing his battered spirit. He obviously wasn’t revolted by the idea; in fact, it was quite the opposite. Jarrod’s stomach clenched anxiously even as his dick strained against his pants. Was he really thinking of doing something considered so immoral? 

_There are many kinds of people in the world, Jarrod. Just live and let live as long as no one is being harmed._ Remembering his father’s words, Jarrod wondered if his father would be so tolerant if it was his son they were discussing, but he also knew he had to be true to himself. He was attracted to Brett and, in spite of his apprehension, he wanted to be with him.

Jarrod knew there would be consequences; exactly what he could only guess, but they’d deal with that later. Right now all that mattered was the moment. Jarrod cupped his hand against Brett’s neck, leaned in and kissed him hard. 

This time Jarrod took the initiative. He plundered Brett’s lips with the passion borne of a newly awakened need and when he pushed with his tongue, Brett parted his lips to let him inside. Lust building in his belly, Jarrod fumbled with the buttons of Brett’s shirt while his tongue explored Brett’s mouth and when they didn’t open fast enough, Jarrod just grabbed both sides and pulled. The fabric tore and Jarrod’s hands roamed over the exposed skin. He’d never felt like this before, even with the highly priced courtesan his father had arranged for before he left.

Brett wasn’t slow in responding. Jarrod’s shirt suffered the same fate as Brett’s as Jarrod pushed the other man onto his back. He could feel the hardness of Brett’s cock through the fabric of their trousers and ground his hips slowly against it.

His mouth left Brett’s to move down his neck, sucking harder on the pulse he found there when Brett moaned. “God, Jarrod…”

Hands reaching down, Jarrod unfastened first Brett’s pants and then his own. He felt the heat of Brett’s erection against his and lifted his hips slightly so his hand could encircle them both. Both of them were leaking and that provided Jarrod the lubrication he needed. He thrust up against Brett, his hand working them as well, and Brett responded in kind. Jarrod lost himself in the pure sensual delight of bodies writhing together, sweat-slick skin rubbing on sweat-slick skin, the slight pain of Brett’s fingers digging into his skin after slipping into his pants to grab his ass and the animalistic need as their cocks strained against each other.

Brett succumbed first; his body tensed and Jarrod felt the sticky heat as his hand was covered in Brett’s release at the same time he heard Brett call out his name. Waves of ecstasy crashed though him and Jarrod thrust hard, expelling his own seed to mingle with Brett’s. He shuddered as they died away and collapsed across Brett, his face burrowed in his lover’s neck.

Cautious fingers came up to play with the hair on the nape of his neck. “Jarrod, I never expected…” Brett’s voice trailed off.

“Don’t worry, neither did I.” Jarrod pushed himself off Brett and into a sitting position. Normally as neat and tidy with his appearance as Jarrod was, Brett was sweaty and dishevelled and unbelievably sexy with his torn shirt and a just-fucked expression on his face. Jarrod wondered if Brett was thinking the same thing about him and even though he’d just had a mind-blowing orgasm, his cock twitched.

Brett didn’t bother to sit up. “I thought you didn’t like this sort of thing.” He gestured towards his limp penis.

Jarrod couldn’t help a chuckle. “I guess I was wrong.” He was glad to see the corner of Brett’s mouth quirk in a small grin.

Then Brett grew serious again. “Jarrod, maybe you should think about this. I mean, not only does the Bible say we’re gonna burn in Hell, but it’s pretty damn illegal too.”

“Then we won’t tell anyone.” He didn’t want to think of how his father might react, he could only hope that he’d have the same tolerance towards his son as he did to others. “And besides, I don’t want to think right now.” Jarrod stood, took off his boots and removed his pants the rest of the way. There was still pain lurking in Brett’s eyes and Jarrod wanted him to know that he was here for him. He held out his hand. “C’mon.”

Brett hesitated a moment before taking the proffered hand. He let Jarrod lead him to his bed, stripped his clothes as well and soon Jarrod was spooned up behind him.

“Y’know, I’ve wanted you ever since we met,” Brett admitted. “You’re just too damned gorgeous.”

Jarrod was glad he was where Brett couldn’t see him blush. “I’ve looked at you, too,” he confessed. “Sometimes I even wondered how it would feel to do what we just did.” Jarrod placed a soft kiss on the back of Brett’s neck. “It was better than I imagined.”

Brett took Jarrod’s hand and pulled his arm more tightly around him. “There’s more we can do,” he offered tentatively. “If you want to.”

Jarrod didn’t have anything to say to that. With his dick pushed against the crease of Brett’s ass, he could imagine what was being suggested. It started to swell at the prospect of being buried in that hot tightness as he remembered the one time he’d done it that way on one of his infrequent visits to a whorehouse. The girl was worried about a baby and Jarrod didn’t want that either, so when she insisted on him doing her that way, he had. It had been so hot and tight that Jarrod got himself off on the memory for weeks.

But the idea of Brett turning the tables and wanting to penetrate him gave Jarrod pause. Did he want that? What they’d already done was one thing, being fucked up the ass was another.

“I want you in me, Jarrod,” Brett breathed. “I want you to ride me hard and put me up wet.”

That did cause a surge of blood to Jarrod’s cock. “I don’t know, Brett,” he said hesitantly, “this is still all new to me.”

Brett twisted to look at him. “I’m not asking for the same from you, Jarrod,” he told his friend. “I’ll gladly oblige you if you want it, but I won’t ask it.” He stretched to kiss him. “Go grab some lard, it’ll make it easier.”

Jarrod held Brett’s gaze for a long moment, saw the sincerity in his eyes and nodded. He retrieved the tin of lard and came back to find Brett on his back, knees bent and legs spread. He knelt between them. “Start with your finger.” Jarrod didn’t bother to tell him about the whore and followed Brett’s lead. He slicked his hand up with lard and pushed a finger through the tight opening. “Oh, yeah,” Brett moaned, “just a little farther…” Jarrod’s finger brushed against a hard nub and Brett arched off the bed. “That’s it, is that ever it.” He caught Jarrod’s eyes and gasped again when Jarrod’s finger ran over the same spot. 

Pumping in and out, Jarrod added a second finger. Brett writhing on the bed was incredibly hot and Jarrod’s cock demanded its turn. “Can I…?’ he asked.

“Oh, god, Jarrod, stick it in me.” 

Jarrod greased up his cock with the lard on his hand, held it firmly and pushed against Brett’s opening. It didn’t go in right away so Jarrod pushed harder. The head of his cock popped through the ring of muscle and he was balls deep in Brett’s ass before he knew it. Brett’s eyes flew open wide at the sudden penetration, but his hips lifted against Jarrod.

“Fuck me, Jarrod, as hard as you want.”

Jarrod didn’t need any other encouragement. His cock felt like it was surrounded by molten metal and the tightness of Brett’s ass gliding along it as he thrust was heaven. Each time he pulled out far enough that when he drove back in, the tip of his cock hit that spot that was driving Brett wild. Hooking his arms under Brett’s knees to force them wider, Jarrod fucked his friend with a punishing rhythm and watched as Brett grabbed his own leaking cock and stroked it roughly. Brett’s muscles clenched down on Jarrod’s cock and several jets of milky fluid shot from his cock. Jarrod knew his own release was close; he plunged into Brett as hard as he could and shot his seed deep inside.

His dick slowly slipped out of Brett’s ass and again he found himself spooned against Brett and his back to the wall on the narrow bed. They’d have to decide on how things stood between them but both of them had emotions that were running high. A good night’s sleep and they could figure things out in the morning.


	4. A Time To Love

Jarrod tried not to squirm in spite of the growing cramp in his neck. It must have been worse for Brett, though, perched on the arm of the wicker chair with his arm draped around Jarrod’s shoulder. He did have something to lean against, but Brett still had his whole body to keep still or the daguerreotype would be ruined. On the whole, Jarrod was glad he was the one sitting. 

The fussy little man moved Jarrod’s arm slightly, twitched the collar of Brett’s suit jacket and moved behind the camera. He covered his head with a black cloth, said, “Keep still,” and his hand reached around to take the cap off the camera lens. Jarrod knew it only took a minute, but it seemed like an hour before the camera operator replaced the lens.

“And how many copies would you like, gentlemen?” he asked as he released the clamp on Jarrod’s head. Jarrod tried to stretch the cramp out of his neck before he took off his graduation cap.

“Three,” Brett told him. “Two in cases and one framed. I thought your mother would like one,” he explained to Jarrod at his quizzical look.

Jarrod smiled at his lover’s thoughtfulness and hoped his family would soon get to meet Brett. Not that he was planning to divulge the full nature of their relationship, but Jarrod couldn’t envision anything better than heading home after three years away and setting up a law practice with the man who meant so much to him.

After that first Christmas, Jarrod and Brett had become regular lovers as well as roommates and colleagues. Jarrod had no regrets; he often looked back to the young man who left Stockton with wonder. If anyone had told him he would find love as well as earn his degree when he came to St. Louis, he would have laughed in their face. Even more incredible was that the love was another man. No words had been spoken but Jarrod recognized the feeling for what it was. There was no better refuge from the stress of a gruelling examination and the ache of homesickness than the haven of Brett’s arms and Jarrod never wanted to give that up.

They walked out of the room housing the temporary portrait studio and Brett slung an arm around Jarrod’s shoulder. “So, what now?”

“Now you have to agree to hang your shingle in Stockton beside mine,” Jarrod told him. “You know you want to as much as I want you to.”

Brett paused and gave him a cocky grin. “You’re right as always. Write home and tell them to make the sign ‘Schuyler and Barkley, attorneys at law’.” His hands drew the sign in the air.

Jarrod lifted an eyebrow. “ ‘Barkley and Schuyler’ you mean,” he corrected with a roguish wink.

Brett opened his mouth to argue, but was cut off by a growing murmur. Looking at each other curiously, Brett and Jarrod followed the noise to a large gathering.

“What’s going on?” Brett asked the nearest person.

The burly man turned. “The Confederates attacked Fort Sumter,” he told them with a brash grin. “They’ve declared war on the Union. All we need is for Lincoln to call us to arms and we’ll show those traitors what the North is made of.”

Jarrod felt a strange mix of regret and elation. Regret that his country was going to war with itself, but elation that finally they could take a stand against slavery. For months the main topic around the university had been South Carolina’s declaration of secession and the subsequent withdrawal of Mississippi, Florida, Alabama, Georgia, Louisiana and Texas from the union. The disagreement was more about the sovereignty of the states versus the integrity of the country, but at the root of it all was the treatment of fellow human beings as cattle rather than people. Jarrod had seen how slaves were regarded on the streets of St. Louis; sometimes even the cattle were treated better.

“So it’s finally come to this.” Brett shook his head. “That kind of puts a damper on the day, doesn’t it?”

“But we don’t have to let it,” Jarrod pointed out. There was nothing to be done until the government called the citizens to arms and Jarrod had been planning a graduation surprise for Brett. “I’ve got a well-aged bottle of scotch waiting for us back at our place, among other things.” Hazel eyes locked with blue and desire built.

“Let’s not waste time then.”

 

Back in their lodgings, they toasted their graduation and then Jarrod leaned over and kissed Brett hungrily. He tasted of fine scotch and Jarrod couldn’t get enough of his lips. Still devouring Brett’s mouth, he got off his chair and straddled Brett’s legs to sit on his lap. Hands made quick work of ties and shirts and soon their chests were bared to wandering hands. Jarrod kissed his way down Brett’s neck and chest, only pausing to suck on one taut nipple on his way. He slid off Brett’s lap as his mouth went further and he licked and nuzzled Brett’s navel while his hands unfastened the buttons of his pants.

Brett obligingly raised his hips so Jarrod could slide his pants all the way off and groaned when Jarrod took his member into his mouth. It had taken some practice, but Jarrod found he loved taking Brett all the way down his throat and that was what he did now. Brett’s hand gripped his hair tightly as Jarrod savoured every inch of the large cock. But an incredible blowjob wasn’t what Jarrod had in mind for their celebration. He let Brett slip out of his mouth and kissed his way back up to those delectable lips.

Brett started to get up, but Jarrod pushed him back into the chair. “Not yet,” he said huskily. Jarrod stood in front of Brett and began to remove his pants very, very slowly. Brett’s lips parted and his breathing grew heavier as Jarrod revealed his body, inch by inch, to his lover. He only pulled Brett out of the chair once he was completely naked. Jarrod grabbed the bottle of oil he had waiting, handed it to Brett and turned to stand against the table, legs wide.

“I want you to take me, Brett.” In the three years of their relationship, Brett had always been on the receiving end of their loving. It bothered Jarrod somewhat that he didn’t offer the same to Brett and he had finally resolved that it was time, even though the idea of being penetrated by Brett’s hard cock still scared him.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

He tensed, waiting for the intrusion of one of Brett’s fingers that didn’t come. Instead, he felt hot breath on his skin as his buttocks were gently pulled apart. Then something warm and wet pressed against him and Jarrod realized it was Brett’s tongue.

“You can’t imagine how long I’ve wanted to do this,” Brett breathed and then his tongue was back playing with Jarrod’s ass. Jarrod had no idea how incredibly sensitive that area was; it sent a tingle through his balls as well as more blood to his groin and he pushed back against Brett when the questing tongue worked its way inside. Brett squeezed and tugged on Jarrod’s balls as he pleasured him with his mouth. Letting go of his sac, Brett’s hand trailed back and suddenly the tongue was replaced with an insistent finger. Jarrod tensed, but the probing digit found its way to that spot Jarrod knew drove Brett wild. He’d wondered what his lover felt; now he knew as a jolt of ecstasy went straight to his cock.

“That’s incredible,” he gasped.

Brett kissed his buttock and started to work his way up Jarrod’s back. “Wait until you feel the real thing.” He removed his hand and his slick cock slipped into the crease of Jarrod’s ass. Anticipation and trepidation grew as Brett lazily slid against him and then there was a sudden shock of pain as Brett’s cock stretched his hole wide. 

Jarrod gritted his teeth as Brett slowly slid deeper. It hurt more than he thought it would and Jarrod wondered if this was anything like what a virgin felt when a man first pierced her maidenhood.

“I just realized you’re a virgin to this,” Brett breathed in his ear, echoing Jarrod’s thoughts. “Do you have any idea how hot that is?”

Jarrod was glad someone was enjoying it until Brett’s cock brushed that spot. The feeling was even more intense than from the finger and completely overshadowed the pain. “Oh, fuck, Brett,” he groaned. Now he knew why Brett had no problem in agreeing to be on the receiving end. “I had no idea how good your cock would feel.”

Brett’s teeth nipped at his shoulder. “Doesn’t hurt too much?”

Jarrod shook his head. “Fuck me hard, lover. Ram that hard cock into me. ”

But Brett continued pushing into Jarrod’s ass with long, slow strokes. “It’s your first time, I want it to last.” Jarrod wasn’t sure how long he that would be with Brett’s cock sending jolts of fire through his body with every thrust, but he vowed to hold out as long as he could.

Brett bit his shoulder harder. “I never knew you liked to talk dirty,” he said, holding his cock in deep and still as he sucked on Jarrod’s skin hard enough to leave a mark. “Tell me, Jarrod. Tell me how you like it.”

Somehow, being impaled on Brett’s cock made Jarrod want to say things he’d thought of but never said before. And if Brett got off on it too… “Brett, I want you to fuck me so hard I can’t walk tomorrow,” Jarrod said, glad Brett was holding still so he could talk with out moaning. “Ride me like a stallion and make me scream.”

Brett started moving again, his thrusts growing faster and harder. 

“Is it hotter knowing you’ve first one to be up my ass?” Jarrod gasped when Brett hit his sweet spot and swore he felt Brett’s dick grow bigger.

“Your ass is all mine,” Brett growled. His hand slid around and grabbed Jarrod’s distended organ. Jarrod felt the impending release burn in his belly and couldn’t stop it. He cried out as he exploded and would have slumped to the floor if Brett wasn’t keeping him upright.

Brett’s motions slowed and he once again thrust lazily into Jarrod’s ass, making sure he stroked the right spot every time. “I want to make you cum until you’re dry,” he told Jarrod as his hand played with the half-erect member. “Can I?”

It hurt to have his over sensitized organ not able to relax, but just knowing it was getting hard again overwhelmed the pain. “Fuck me and make me cum until it hurts,” he whispered, unable to find his full voice.

Brett proceeded to do just that. Jarrod was amazed at how long Brett was able to fuck him without cumming himself. Three shots later and Jarrod’s cock was spasming again, trying to eject seed that wasn’t there. “Enough, Brett,” he finally gasped. Brett’s thrusting picked up speed and Jarrod had one more excruciating mind-blowing climax as he was finally filled with Brett’s seed.

Jarrod collapsed to the floor in a trembling heap when Brett let him go. His body and mind were drained of more than just his semen, which was splattered all over the floor and table. Brett sank down beside him.

“Jarrod, you are fucking amazing,” he groaned. “Don’t ever stop talking to me like that.”

Jarrod leaned over and kissed him hard. “As long as you don’t stop fucking me like that,” he retorted as he envisioned their brilliant future together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jarrod and Brett's graduation photo can be found here.
> 
> http://bvdarkmuse.livejournal.com/31269.html


	5. A Time For War

“Dammit, Jarrod!” Brett yelled, slamming his fist on the table. “You’re throwing away your life, your future! Our future!”

Jarrod calmly continued to pack even though inside he was in complete turmoil. President Lincoln had finally issued the call to arms and Jarrod was one of the first to sign up. He wasn’t fighting for the thrill of conflict like so many others; he strongly believed in the sanctity of the Union and the rights of all men under God as an advocate of the law and just because he was who he was. Jarrod knew he’d never be able to hold his head high if he didn’t stand up for his principles and had no choice but to bear arms in their defence. 

He respected Brett’s position though. Jarrod had seen enough men killed out west and knew war wasn’t gong to be glorious. He couldn’t fault any man for wanting to avoid that but knowing he wouldn’t have Brett beside him was like losing a part of himself.

“We can still have that future.” Jarrod did his best not to sound as though he was begging. “When the war’s over, we’ll build that practice together in California, Brett. I promise.”

Brett grabbed the front of Jarrod’s shirt and roughly pulled him close. “You could be dead by then!” He shoved Jarrod away hard enough to make him stumble and turned his back on him.

“Brett…” Jarrod started, putting a hand on his lover’s shoulder, but Brett abruptly shrugged it off.

“It doesn’t matter. Just go, Jarrod.”

Jarrod sighed heavily and picked up his bag. He took one step towards the door and stopped.

_I told him he didn’t matter. I let him down and now I’ll never be able to tell him how much I loved him._

Brett’s words from three years ago echoed clearly in Jarrod’s mind. He couldn’t walk out. He couldn’t leave to possibly be killed without saying the words. He needed to know he’d told Brett how he felt.

Jarrod turned back. “You’ll be in my heart, Brett, every day. No matter what, I’ll always love you.” Brett didn’t move. Jarrod shouldered his bag again and walked to the door with a heavy heart.

“Jarrod…”

Jarrod turned again to find Brett facing him, his face wet with tears. “I love you too, Jarrod.”

Jarrod dropped his bag, strode over to Brett, pulled him tightly into his arms and kissed him fiercely. Brett returned the kiss with equal passion and they clung to each other desperately.

Brett pulled away after a moment and reached into his pocket. He took out two semicircles of silver. “I’ve carried this coin around for a long time,” he said, playing with the halves. “I’ve never showed anyone before, but it was my mother’s. I went to a jeweller’s and had it cut for us the other day.” He handed one half to Jarrod and held his piece up. Jarrod fit the piece he’d been given to Brett’s and they matched perfectly. 

“Unum ad finem,” Jarrod said quietly.

“One at the end,” Brett replied, translating the Latin into English. The clock on the mantel chimed the hour. 

“I’d better go or I’ll miss my train.” Jarrod gave Brett another tight hug and it was hard to let go, but he did. “It’ll be whole again,” he promised before carefully pocketing the half circle he knew he would always carry with him. 

“Write when you can.”

Jarrod nodded. Grabbing his bag again, he left the apartment and this time he didn’t turn back.


	6. A Time To Embrace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next three chapters are taken straight from the episode "A Time To Kill". The only place I've deviated from episode canon is in a comment Victoria makes to Brett. Instead of "I've often wondered...", I changed it to "I have to wonder..." so it feels more like she's never met Brett before.
> 
> Isn't it wonderful when you can write slash using all the original material?

“What do you think, Nick?” Jarrod steepled his fingers while his brother perused the contract.

The dark haired rancher nodded slowly. “Looks good.” He held out his hand to the representative of the company that was bidding for the contract to ship Barkley produce back east. “I think we have ourselves a deal, gentlemen.” 

Jarrod stood and walked out from behind his desk. “Then all we need to do is sign the papers…”

The door opened and his secretary came in, closing the door behind her. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Mr. Barkley, but there’s a gentleman here to see you. He was quite insistent and told me to give you this.”

Jarrod took the silver object and his stomach did a backflip when he recognized it. How long had it been? There had been a few letters during the war, but after several were returned, Jarrod no longer knew where Brett was. He’d gone into a deep downward spiral, drinking too much and hanging out with the wrong sort of people. He’d even convinced himself he was in love with Julia Saxon, a beautiful Confederate spy, to try and get over his loss, but there was always a gaping hole in his heart where Brett had been.

“Excuse me, gentlemen, I’ll be right back.” As he walked to the door, Jarrod had no idea what he was going to say or what he was going to do.

Jarrod opened the door and there he was, the same cocky self-assured man who’d stolen his heart so many years ago. All of a sudden, Jarrod was overcome by anger. Brett knew where he lived, knew how to find him and he hadn’t ever written. How dare he show up here out of the blue with those stunning eyes and that sexy smile? “Well, well, well, so you finally got here.” Jarrod put his hands on his hips in a defiant posture as though he was questioning a hostile witness. “You didn’t have any trouble finding the place?” He could see Brett was somewhat taken aback at his belligerent tone.

“No, I didn’t have any trouble.” Brett got over his surprise and mirrored Jarrod’s posture.

“You sure it didn’t inconvenience you?”

“No, not a bit.” Brett’s tone was just as adversarial as Jarrod’s.

“Just passing through, no doubt.”

“I’m here at your invitation, Jarrod.” Then Brett smiled and Jarrod’s anger melted away. It suddenly didn’t matter why Brett had vanished from his life, all that mattered was he was here now.

“Brett, you wild and wandering maverick, what do you have to say for yourself?” Jarrod took the two steps to reach him and grabbed Brett in a tight hug. There was so much he wanted to say, so much he wanted to do, but his brother and his secretary were watching them from the other room, so he let Brett go. “Why didn’t you let me know you were coming?”

Brett leaned back on the desk and Jarrod’s heart raced when he smiled that smile again. “What? And miss a welcome like this?”

Jarrod chuckled. “You haven’t changed a bit.” God, it was good to see Brett again, no matter what had happened and how long it had been. “Well, now that you’re here, what are your plans? Just passing through or do you plan to stay?” Please let him want to stay, his mind begged. They couldn’t go back to what they were, but Jarrod wanted a chance to see if they could become something again.

The smile never left Brett’s lips. “Well if I stay, can I make a place for myself?”

“In this valley? Believe me, it’s crying for men like you, it’s your oyster.” He laughed in relief. Brett was going to stay, at least for a little while.

Then he remembered the half coin he held in his hand. He turned it over before pulling out his watch chain. He’d almost lost his piece once during the war and when he got home, he drilled a hole through it and attached it to the gold chain of the watch he’d been given by his father. The only person who knew the coin’s significance was Nick and Jarrod knew his brother would never betray his confidence.

Fitting the two pieces together, Jarrod looked up at Brett and wasn’t sure what he saw in those hazel eyes.

“Unum ad finem,” Brett said softly and this time, Jarrod could read a myriad of emotions in Brett’s eyes, mostly guilt and fear tempered by hope. He wondered what Brett could read in his.

Jarrod tossed back Brett’s half, which the other man deftly caught. “I’ve got some work to take care of, won’t take a minute.” Heading into the office, he spoke quickly so Brett wouldn’t have a chance to object. “I’ll meet you over at the hotel and we’ll ride out to the house, you’ll stay with us of course.”

“Oh, I don’t…” Brett tried to protest, but Jarrod cut him off.

“Your objection’s overruled.” Jarrod told him and was rewarded with another of those smiles that still made him go weak in the knees. “Good to have you here, Brett,” he added softly.

“Thank you, counsellor.”

Jarrod nodded and as he went back into the inner office, he wondered why Brett had been so formal at the end.

It was all he could do to keep his concentration on the business at hand. He ignored Nick’s questioning look as they signed the papers and bid the representative farewell.

“Was that the other half of your coin?” Nick asked as soon as the door was closed.

“It was,” Jarrod confirmed as he retrieved his hat. 

“Why the devil would he show up now, after all this time?” Nick wanted to know. Jarrod looked up from buckling on his gunbelt and noticed a faint scowl on his brother’s face. “How long has it been, anyway?

Contrary to his initial thought, Jarrod knew exactly how much time it had been. Eleven years, ten months and seven days had passed since he’d walked out of that apartment in St. Louis, eleven years, ten months and seven days since he’d kissed those delectable lips. It wasn’t as if he’d been celibate, but his dalliances were few and far between. He still craved the feeling of another hard cock against his or wanted to be sheathed in a tight muscular ass, but never again had he been on the receiving end of another man’s attentions. He could come up with a multitude of reasons why not, but deep down he knew the reason simply was that it wasn’t Brett.

“A long time,” was all he said to Nick, “before the war.” He started for the door. “I’ll meet you back at the ranch. Tell Mother we might be having a guest.”

Nick caught his arm before he could leave the room. “Now wait a minute, Jarrod. You spilled your guts to me about Brett Schuyler when we got drunk together after Father died and I’ve seen the look on your face when you pull that coin out of your pocket. He hurt you, dammit. Why would you want to open up old wounds?”

Jarrod pulled out of Nick’s grip. “I was the one who left, Nick,” he snapped, partially out of annoyance and partially out of the knowledge that Nick had a point. “Brett had every reason not to contact me.”

“Then why does he turn up in your office out of the blue?”

Jarrod didn’t have an answer for that. Instead, he put a hand on Nick’s shoulder. “I’m a big boy, Nick. I’ll be fine.”

Nick grabbed his hat and fixed it firmly on his head. “Well, he’d better watch his step or he’ll have me to answer to.”

Jarrod told his secretary to close up for the day as they left. 

“I brought the big wagon into town today,” Nick told Jarrod as they walked across the street. “I’ll get Jingo from the livery before I bring it up and we can head off to the ranch together.”

Jarrod was going to protest but then thought better of it. If Brett asked him upstairs to a room where they could have some privacy, he could always tell Nick to go on ahead without them, even though Nick was sure to get ideas of what they might be doing behind closed doors.

But if it had been eleven years, ten months and seven days since they’d seen each other, it was also that long for both he and Brett to change. He wasn’t the same idealistic law student he was back then; he still held the same beliefs and values, but he’d been shaped by time and tragedy and Brett likely had been as well. Having Nick along would give him a chance to test the waters and figure out his own feelings without all the awkwardness that might there if they were alone. 

“Sounds good, Nick. We’ll meet you outside.”

Nick went off in the direction of the livery while Jarrod entered the hotel. His heart leaped when he saw Brett lounging in a chair in the hotel lobby.

“You weren’t kidding when you said it wouldn’t take a minute,” Brett rose and clasped Jarrod’s arm in a firm grip. He picked up his suitcases and said, “Just find me a good horse and we can head out to your ranch.”

Jarrod didn’t realize how much he’d hoped that Brett would invite him up to his room until that moment. He masked his disappointment and grabbed one of the cases. “My brother Nick’s in town. He brought the wagon and suggested we all ride back together.”

“I’ve been looking forward to meeting him,” Brett said as he went towards the door. “In fact, I’m looking forward to meeting your whole family. I remember all the times you used to talk about them.”

But no mention of looking forward to the two of them spending time together, Jarrod noticed, and he hoped it was only because they were in a public place. 

 

Jarrod opted to ride home, letting Nick drive the wagon with Brett beside him. Sitting beside Brett on the wagon, not knowing if he could touch him, was more than the lawyer thought he could take right then. He made a note to thank Nick for engaging Brett in conversation about the ranch and the happenings in the family over the past decade. It gave Jarrod a chance to sort out his own thoughts and from the look that Nick shot him, that was likely the intent.

Jarrod knew how fortunate he was to have Nick as a brother. It was like they’d only said goodbye yesterday when they met up in Philadelphia on their way home from the war, even though they hadn’t seen each other for almost seven years. Nick was at least a foot taller and they’d both been changed by the hell they’d seen, but they knew each other instantly and almost missed their train due to their elation at finding one another again. 

Their bond had been further strengthened after their father was shot down. Neither had time to grieve; Jarrod made sure the rail barons didn’t sense any weakness to exploit and Nick had his hands full managing the ranch. Both young men needed to prove themselves worthy of filling Tom Barkley’s boots and it was late one night after the railroad finally backed down that his father’s loss fully hit Jarrod. When Nick came home after a tiring day of trying to prove that he was capable of taking over the ranch, the young lawyer had already consumed at least a quarter of a bottle of whiskey. It didn’t take long for Nick to catch up and soon they were lost in sorrow and drunken reminiscing. Guard down, Jarrod found himself telling his brother about that Christmas when Brett’s father died and how they’d ended up in bed together.

To his shock, Nick hadn’t hit him. He didn’t even pull back in disgust at the knowledge his brother had intimate relations with another man. Instead, he asked Jarrod if he’d been in love with Brett and what happened to him. Jarrod was finally able to talk about something he’d kept deep inside and poured out all his hopes, dreams and heartbreak about their affair. Nick listened without prejudice; he only commented that at least his brother couldn’t get another man pregnant. 

Jarrod was shocked by Nick’s statement, but Nick went on to tell him that during the conflict, he’d met a young woman as sickened by war as he was. They’d taken solace in each other and when he was in the same area a few months later, he found out they’d conceived a child. They were going to marry, but everything was made moot when she caught fever and passed away.

Jarrod glanced over to Nick, who was turning Brett’s attention towards a herd of Barkley horses. Both brothers learned a lot about each other that night, not in the least was that Jarrod knew Nick didn’t judge him for preferring men over women. Later, when one of them was plagued by echoes of the war, heartbreak or just had something they needed to get off their chest, they’d retreat into the library with a bottle and pour their hearts out to each other. Nick knew exactly how much Brett meant to Jarrod, even though the other man had disappeared from his brother’s life. He’d even urged Jarrod to hire the Pinkertons to track him down, but Jarrod refused. Brett knew where he lived; if he wanted to be with Jarrod, he only had to contact him.

He’d resigned himself that memories were all he’d ever have until he opened his office door and saw Brett standing there. Did he dare hope that Brett was there for him? Glancing back over, Jarrod saw Brett looking at him. Their eyes locked together and Jarrod saw the longing and fear that he remembered from their first time. Jarrod’s breathing quickened and he felt the stirrings of desire.

Jingo shied and Jarrod tore his eyes away from Brett to regain control. When he glanced back, Brett was again paying attention to Nick. Jarrod knew he had to get Brett alone, find out why he’d finally come and what the future might hold for them.

A plan in mind, Jarrod devoted his attention to Brett for the rest of the way. The sandy hair, chiselled features and laughing hazel eyes were exactly as he remembered them. He didn’t try to keep the desire from his eyes when Brett occasionally glanced at him and hoped the only reason Brett looked away quickly was that Nick was there and not because he didn’t return the feeling.

Before he knew it, they were pulling up in front of the house. Brett looked at it in admiration as he stepped out of the buggy.

“Nice place.”

“We like it.” Nick took Jingo’s reins from Jarrod. “I’ll put up the horses and bring Brett's bags in.”

“Thanks, Nick.” Jarrod looked to Brett. “Ready to meet the others?”

Brett smiled and, much to Jarrod’s delight, he slung an arm around Jarrod’s shoulders. Jarrod reached up to grasp Brett’s shoulder and they went into the house together, smiling and laughing as though they’d never parted.

“Mother!” Jarrod called out. “We have a guest!”

Victoria came out from the arch to the dining room as they took off their hats and paused when she saw the two men.

“Brett Schuyler!” she exclaimed. “Welcome to our home.” She held out a hand and Brett clasped it warmly.

“Thank you, Mrs. Barkley. I’m surprised you recognize me.”

Victoria smiled indulgently at both of them. “Oh, Jarrod described you so well in his letters, I’d know you anywhere, even after all these years.” She turned at footsteps from the library. “Oh, Silas,” she told the black man as he entered the room with Audra. “This is Jarrod’s friend from law school, Brett Schuyler. Could you make up the guest room for him?”

“Oh, course, Missus Barkley.” He turned a wide smile on Brett. “It’s a pleasure to have you with us, Mr. Schuyler.” 

Audra stepped forward as Silas went up the stairs. “Jarrod never told me we were having a guest.” She dimpled at Brett. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Brett looked from face to face, smiling widely. “Well, if I knew I’d have this kind of welcome, I would've come sooner.”

Jarrod wanted very much to ask why he hadn’t, but held his tongue. He’d make sure they had a chance to be alone later and find out why Brett had been silent for so long.

“So what brings you to Stockton, Mr. Schuyler?” Victoria asked as she led him to the parlour. “Business or pleasure?” She sat on the settee, spread her skirt and gestured for Brett to sit on the other end.

“A little of both, I hope.” Brett shot Jarrod a look that went straight to his groin and he hoped no one would notice as he went to light a cigar. “And please call me Brett.”

“A client?" Audra wanted to know. She took a seat across from Brett.

“No,” Brett said with a shake of his head. “I never actually practised law after graduation. I thought I’d do a little business, see an old friend…” Jarrod returned Brett's wink with a smile of his own.

All heads turned at the sound of the door and Nick strode in with Heath following him. “Heath, this is Jarrod’s friend from law school, Brett Schyuler. Brett, our brother Heath.”

Heath stepped over and shook Brett’s hand. “Brett. Would you like a drink?”

“No thanks.”

“I’d like a sherry please, Heath.” Victoria turned her attention back to Brett. “I’m sure you and Jarrod have some wonderful stories to share from your law school days.”

“Ah but where to begin?” Jarrod lifted an eyebrow towards Brett.

Brett shrugged. “I don’t know. How about with the time I liberated the dry ice from the medical college and filled the lecture theatre with fog?”

Jarrod laughed as he walked over to the mantel to stand by Nick. “And it was right after that when I painted the zebra stripes on Prof. Hamilton’s old mare.”

Brett looked at him indignantly. “Wait a minute, wait a minute; I painted the stripes on the mare. You put the liniment in his bathwater.”

“Oh, that’s right.” Jarrod took a puff of his cigar and felt a warm satisfaction. It was starting to feel just like old times.

“How did you two ever graduate?” 

Jarrod looked over and saw the amusement on his sister’s face. It turned to laughter as Nick told them, “Well, they just broke into an office and stole two diplomas.” He walked over to Heath and poured himself a drink.

“Oh, no no no, it wasn’t all fun and games,” Jarrod protested. “Of course it might have been for Brett here, he was kind of the brilliant type, just breezed through.” Jarrod would have been jealous at the ease with which Brett aced his classes if his friend hadn’t been so damned charming and so damned sexy. Not a bad student himself, Jarrod knew his grades were better for having Brett’s help.

“I have to wonder why you never went into law,” Victoria asked. Jarrod hoped Brett answered her; it was something he wanted to know himself.

“Well, I couldn’t see myself clerking for a firm that might make me a junior partner in twenty years.” He gave Jarrod a knowing look. They’d often discussed that over late night drinks, about how experienced lawyers used younger members of the profession as virtual slaves. Jarrod was fortunate he’d made contacts in Washington during the war that helped him become a member of the bar and the Barkley name didn’t hurt when he set up in Stockton.

“So I traded the little my father left me in for experience.” Brett got to his feet and strolled over to Audra. “Equal parts vision, luck, a sense of timing… you attract fortune like a magnet.” As Jarrod watched Brett, he imagined him holding forth in a courtroom and reflected that the law profession had lost a brilliant member.

Brett continued. “Caution’s for the plotters, I leaped over their heads. Cattle, shipping, land…

“And now, Brett?” Victoria asked with an indulgent smile. 

“And now… a breather.” Brett turned his full attention on Jarrod. “And then I think, law?” There was promise in his eyes and in his tone and Jarrod’s doubts melted away. It was all he could do not to take Brett in his arms and kiss him for all he was worth.

“Ah,” was all he said and walked over to Brett. “Right here, in this valley.”

“If you can stand the competition, Jarrod,” Brett answered smoothly.

“Competition?” How could Brett ever think Jarrod would set them up to be rivals? “I’ll send you the business. I’ll even set you up an office space. Fair enough?”

Brett seemed slightly taken aback. “That’s more than generous.”

Nick broke in. “Brett, I think you’ll find this whole valley is more than generous. Just give a little bit of yourself and it’ll never fail you.” Nick looked pointedly at Jarrod and Jarrod smiled when he realized Nick was talking of more than just the valley.

“You’ll see for yourself Brett, in time.” Jarrod knew he’d do everything he could to have Brett make the valley his home.

“I hope so.” Brett looked around the room and took a deep breath. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to go and unpack before dinner.” He gave the ladies a slight nod and went upstairs.

Jarrod turned back, chuckling with relief at how easily they’d seemed to slip back into their old camaraderie. “Well, I’d say he hasn’t changed a bit.”

“A rising star has become a comet,” Victoria observed and broke a bit of Jarrod’s bubble when she added, “Do comets ever stay put?”

“Well, I don’t know. He just might, this time.” Jarrod prayed that would turn out to be the case.

 

Jarrod bid goodnight to his family and turned back to his guest. He and Brett had traded stories from school all through dinner and Brett continued to charm his family when they retired to the library for coffee and dessert. But Jarrod was glad when the ladies and his brothers decided to turn in, leaving him alone with Brett.

“Well, what’s your pleasure?” Jarrod asked. “Cards, billiards…?”

Brett set down his glass. “I was… thinking of something a little more… intimate. As long as you want that, too.” He stepped up to Jarrod until their chests were almost touching.

Jarrod’s breathing quickened. Having Brett so close was intoxicating and all Jarrod wanted to do was kiss him, strip him naked and make passionate love to him. But it had been almost twelve years with no contact, almost twelve years of heartbreak and Jarrod needed an explanation before he risked himself again. So he stepped back and walked over to his desk. He toyed with the paperweight and asked, “Why, Brett? Why did you wait so long to come back?”

“I don’t know.” 

Jarrod looked over to find Brett staring into the flames of the fireplace.

“I suppose I was… scared.”

“Scared?” Jarrod was confused. “Scared of what, Brett? Not me, I hope.”

Brett gave a small laugh. “Of what you’d think of me, not fighting for the Union, not becoming a lawyer…” He finally looked up and their eyes met. “I’ve never stopped thinking about you, Jarrod.”

This time it was Jarrod who walked up to Brett. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters.” He reached up to caress Brett’s cheek. “I never thought any worse of you for not signing up and I’d never condemn you for following your own path.” Leaning in, he brushed his lips against Brett’s and Brett reached around to pull his head in for a longer kiss. “Maybe we should go find somewhere more private,” Jarrod whispered, unable to catch his breath. “Your room’s closer, as long as you can be quiet.”

“For you, anything,” Brett replied with a devilish grin. “As long as you whisper those things in my ear.”

Jarrod’s eyes gleamed as his cock hardened. “Like what?” His voice lowered. “That I’ve been waiting almost twelve years to have your cum slide down my throat again? That I want to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk for a week?” 

“Yeah,” Brett said back in a husky tone. “Those things.”

“Come on.” Jarrod led the way out of the library and up the stairs.

Door closed and locked behind them, Jarrod and Brett wasted no time in stripping off each other’s clothes.

“Damn, Brett, you are so hot,” Jarrod breathed, pushing Brett to sit on the edge of the bed. “Spread your legs and let me suck you.”

“Jarrod...” Brett moaned as Jarrod took the head of his dick in his mouth and worked his way down.

Jarrod was gratified to find out he hadn’t lost the knack of deep-throating Brett’s cock; he loved the feeling of that hard organ sliding in and out of his throat. Brett grabbed him by the hair, held him tight to his groin and started thrusting. Jarrod closed his eyes and made sure he took a breath whenever he could. It wasn’t long before his efforts were rewarded; Brett tensed and thick, hot cum flowed into his mouth. Jarrod swallowed and sucked, getting out all he could before he let Brett go.

Kissing his way up Brett’s belly and chest, Jarrod reached his lips. Brett pulled him back onto the bed as his mouth tried to devour Brett’s like a starving man. Jarrod’s cock was harder than it had ever been and it wasn’t long before he had Brett on his stomach and his cock buried in that hot ass.

“Oh god, Brett, you feel so good,” he muttered, leaning over to bite Brett’s shoulder. “I could almost fuck you forever, but I don’t think I’m gonna last that long.” Jarrod picked up the pace, driving harder into his lover until he exploded and emptied his cock up Brett’s ass.

Collapsing, Jarrod rolled off and pulled Brett close. “I’ve missed you more than I can say,” he whispered as he burrowed his face against Brett’s neck.

Brett’s arm tightened around his. “I’ve missed you too, Jarrod. I’m sorry I didn’t come back sooner.”

“You’re here now,” Jarrod pointed out.

Brett squirmed around to face him. “Yes, I am.” He gave Jarrod a long look. “You had every right to throw me out on my ass.”

Jarrod kissed him hard. “I had other ideas on what to do with your ass,” he said wickedly.

Brett chuckled. “Give me a few more minutes and I’ll do the same to yours if you want,” he breathed in Jarrod’s ear.

He wasn’t twenty anymore, but Jarrod felt his cock start to stir again. “It’s all yours,” he murmured. 

Brett twisted until he was straddling Jarrod, leaned over and started sucking on his neck.

“Be careful,” Jarrod warned, “I don’t want to have to explain any marks.”

Brett’s eyes twinkled. “Then I’ll just leave them where no one can see.” Jarrod gasped at the slight pain when Brett’s lips moved down to his chest instead. He could feel Brett’s cock start to harden against his and spread his legs to get better contact. They rubbed and pushed against each other until both dicks were leaking again before Brett sat up and reached around himself. Jarrod realized he’d swiped some of the semen that was leaking out of his ass onto his fingers when Brett rubbed their slickness against his opening.

“I want you in me, Brett.” Jarrod’s voice was husky. “Fill me with your cock.” Brett grabbed his legs to spread them further and he groaned softly when Brett pushed inside. It hurt a bit, it had been so long, but Jarrod didn’t care. He grabbed Brett’s buttocks tightly to encourage him deeper and had to bite his lip to keep from crying out when Brett hit just the right spot. “You know, you’re the only one who’s ever been inside me,” Jarrod whispered.

Brett paused. “Jarrod, I had no idea…”

Jarrod caught his eyes. “That doesn’t mean you should stop,” he scolded.

Brett leaned over and kissed him before resuming his motions. Jarrod wrapped his hand around his own cock and started stroking to the same rhythm. He’d fantasized about this for almost twelve years and the reality didn’t disappoint. Jarrod gritted his teeth to stop from calling out Brett’s name as he came hard all over his hand and Brett buried his face in Jarrod’s shoulder to muffle his own cries of pleasure.

They relaxed into each other’s arms and Jarrod had to force himself not to drift off to sleep. “I’d better go,” he said reluctantly.

“Yeah.” Brett watched Jarrod get out of the bed and pull on his clothes.

Jarrod came over and kissed Brett tenderly. “I’ll see you at breakfast.”

“At breakfast,” Brett promised.

Jarrod pulled himself away and left for his own room, hoping that someday he could again wake up in Brett’s arms like they had so many times before.

  
[Jarrod/Brett](http://cowgirl65.deviantart.com/art/Jarrod-Brett-349204994) by ~[cowgirl65](http://cowgirl65.deviantart.com/) on [deviantART](http://www.deviantart.com)


	7. A Time To Rend

Nick was standing outside his door when Jarrod got up the next morning. “So?”

“So, what?” It was early and Jarrod hadn’t gotten to his own bed until late so it didn’t register right away what Nick was getting at.

“So, how’d things go with you and Brett?”

Jarrod glanced down the hall in case anyone else was up to hear. “Maybe not out here, Nick.” He stood aside and ushered Nick into his room.

Nick crossed his arms and leaned against the closed door. “So?” he repeated. “You two kiss and make up last night?”

Jarrod tried not to look embarrassed. Yes, Nick knew he and Brett had been sexually involved, but he’d never gone into details. “Nick, you should know by now that I don’t usually kiss and tell.”

“I know.” Nick fixed him with a stern look. “I just don’t want you to set yourself up for another heartbreak. Did he say why he finally came? Or better yet, why he didn’t come before?”

“Yes, he did,” Jarrod said quietly and he gave Nick a reassuring smile. “I think there’s a future for us, Nick, I really do.”

Nick frowned, but then clapped Jarrod on the shoulder. “Just be careful, Pappy.”

“I will, Nick,” Jarrod promised. “Now can you let me get ready for breakfast?”

Nick chuckled. “I’ll try to leave some for you.”

Jarrod headed to the bathroom for a quick shave and quickly got dressed. He straightened his tie as he came down the stairs and tried to keep from whistling. He was happier than he had been in a long time; it was a beautiful sunny morning and he had Brett in his life again.

There was a knock at the door when he reached the bottom of the stairs. Wondering who it might be this early in the morning, Jarrod went to answer it. A tall thin man was standing there.

“Jarrod Barkley?” he asked.

“That’s right.” 

Jarrod waited for the man to state his business.

“My name is Monroe.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Oh, you don’t know me. I’d like to talk to you for a few minutes, someplace where we, ah, won’t be disturbed?”

Jarrod wasn’t about to let someone into his family’s home without knowing why they were there. “What about?”

The man reached into his pocket and pulled out a small red folder. “Secret Service,” he said as he showed Jarrod his credentials.

“Come in, Mr. Monroe.” Jarrod wondered what the government might want with him as he invited Agent Monroe inside. He’d done some work with the Secret Service during the war, but that had been years ago. Monroe stopped in the foyer and looked around. Jarrod gestured towards the door that led to the library. “This way, please.”

Monroe removed his hat and walked in the indicated direction. “It’s a beautiful home, Mr. Barkley.”

“Thank you.” Jarrod hoped Monroe would get to the point without any more small talk as he showed the man to the library and closed the door behind them.

As Jarrod hoped, Monroe got right down to business, but it wasn’t concerning anything he could have ever guessed. “Mr. Barkley, you’ve got a good friend visiting with you name of Brett Schuyler. Now don’t confirm or deny it, just let me do the talking.” Jarrod just looked at him and wondered what was going on. “He was moving around quite a piece ‘fore he came here. I know, ‘cause I’ve been travelling that same route, not that he knows that. I wouldn’t be much good at my job if he did.” 

Monroe smiled, Jarrod thought in an attempt to get some sort of reaction from him. But he wasn’t considered one of the best in a courtroom because he let his thoughts show. “Interesting thing about Mr. Schuyler’s travels, though.” Monroe reached into his pocket as he spoke. “Every place he’s been, New Orleans, Cheyenne, Santa Fe, San Antone,” he pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to Jarrod, “they’ve had a flock of these.”

Jarrod took the $10 bill and looked it over, not sure what Monroe was getting at. “Well, what about it?”

“Well, it looks so good, it’d take an expert to tell it wasn’t.”

Jarrod looked back at the money he was holding. No, he just couldn’t believe Brett would be a part of something like that. He folded the bill and handed it back. “You’d better start travelling a different route, Mr. Monroe.” He moved to show Monroe the door. “You’re trailing the wrong man.”

“Mr. Barkley…” The tone in Monroe’s voice made Jarrod pause and he turned back to Monroe. “I got my family back east, little place in Virginia.” He tucked the money back into his pocket. “It’s been over a twelve month since I’ve seen them. I don’t like it. But when I believe I’m right about a man, I stay with him until I catch him.” Monroe seemed so sure that it gave Jarrod pause. He hadn’t seen Brett in almost twelve years after all and prided himself on giving both sides of a story a fair hearing, even though he didn’t think Brett could have changed that much.

Jarrod walked back over to the desk. “All right Mr. Monroe, I’ve heard your suspicions.” He leaned back on desk and crossed his arms. “Now suppose you give me your evidence.”

“I don’t have any.”

If this were a court of law, Jarrod would have let his case rest. But Monroe was so sure, Jarrod felt he needed to lay out his own evidence. “Mr. Monroe, Brett Schuyler and I went through law school together. We roomed together, ate together, boned from the same books together.” Slept in the same bed together, shared each other intimately. “I know him as well as I know myself.”

Monroe didn’t look convinced. “Well now, it’s been quite a while since you’ve seen him. Now what is it he’s been doing, did he tell you?”

Confident in his case, Jarrod answered, “He did. Land, cattle, shipping…”

“Oh?” Now it was Monroe who looked more confident. “I never heard that he signed a deed, or looked at a herd or boarded a ship, but if you are confident he is not my man, then you won’t mind helping me.”

Jarrod’s certainty was subtly shaken. An agent of the Secret Service would have access to that sort of information, and being in land, cattle and shipping himself, Jarrod knew there would be a paper trail for any of those enterprises. “And just what is it you’d like me to do?” he asked as he stood.

“Well now, Schuyler knows he’s safe here as your guest, you should have easy access to his belongings. There’s a good possibility he’s got that money concealed in his bags.”

That would be a complete violation of a guest and a friend and Jarrod didn’t want any part of it. “I’ll show you the door.”

“I know, I know, it’s a Judas trick, call it what you like. But I wouldn’t ask this of a man’s best friend if I didn’t think it was necessary.” Jarrod saw sincerity and a hint of regret in Monroe’s eyes and his resolve wavered. “I’m staying at the hotel in Stockton.” Monroe opened the door and let himself out.

Jarrod stood for a moment, frozen by his conflicting emotions, not sure what he believed or what he was going to do. Finally following, he reached the foyer as the door shut behind Monroe. He walked to the dining room, intent on joining his friend and the family for breakfast before he thought any more about Monroe’s accusations. 

“Morning.” His stomach tightened uncomfortably when he heard Brett’s voice. Pausing at the doorway, Jarrod watched his friend and lover talking and laughing with his mother and sister as they served out breakfast and all he could think of were Monroe’s words. If you are confident he is not my man, then you won’t mind helping me. If he were that confident about Brett, though, nothing would have shaken Jarrod’s faith in his friend. Jarrod suddenly knew he wouldn’t rest easy unless he knew for sure.

Jarrod went back through the foyer and up the stairs. He paused at the door before going inside Brett’s room and shutting it firmly behind him. Looking slowly around the room, Jarrod’s gaze was drawn to the bed with its bunched up pillow and tangled sheets. Memories of last night assaulted his mind, of Brett’s body writhing beneath his, of Brett penetrating him and of the incredible heights they reached together. 

Jarrod ruthlessly pushed those images away and focused on Brett’s suitcase that was open on the bed. He looked through Brett’s belongings and found a wrapped box. Pulling it out, he read the tag, “for Victoria Barkley, with affection Brett Schuyler.” Jarrod felt an incredible amount of guilt for doubting Brett. He put the box back and turned to leave the room.

That was when he noticed the case sitting under the table. He’d gone this far, he might as well see it through so there was no lingering uncertainty. Jarrod pulled out the case, set it on the table and opened it. Looking through the neatly folded clothes, he noticed the valise had a false bottom. Jarrod held his breath as he pulled it up and his heart stopped when he saw the bundles of bills tucked in tight rows. Why would Brett go through all the trouble to hide the money unless… Jarrod refused to go there, at least until it was proven. He pocketed a couple bills, carefully replaced the bottom, tucked the valise back under the table and quietly left Brett’s room.

 

Jarrod didn’t know how he made it through breakfast. He said farewell to the family and to Brett with a promise to try to be back before it was too late so he could show Brett around the ranch before dinner and didn’t really remember the ride to town. He spent most of the morning in his office, trying to talk himself into believing in Brett and not taking the money to Monroe, but in the end, he had to know. He asked at the hotel desk for Monroe’s room number, went up the stairs and knocked on the door. 

He heard a loud, “Yes?” and entered the room, closing the door behind him.

Monroe folded the paper he’d been reading when he saw who it was. “Oh, Mr. Barkley. You’re just in time for a fine lunch. Come on in, come on in and pull up a chair. I’ll send down for another portion.”

“No thanks.” Jarrod wasn’t in the mood for socializing. He just wanted to get it over with. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled out the bills he’d taken from Brett’s suitcase, tossed them on the table without a word and walked away.

“Hyatt, come in here,” Monroe called. Jarrod glanced at the bald man who came in from the adjoining room and stared blankly at one of the paintings on the wall as he went over to Monroe, trying not to listen but unable to do so. “Take a look at these.”

“It’s in the border design they usually 1come a cropper,” Monroe said and Jarrod reckoned he was explaining how they could tell counterfeit from real money. “Course, some are fancier than others. Genuine engraver, he don’t mind how much time he puts in designing that lacy border there. Of course the counterfeiter’s inclined to get a bit more impatient, wants to get his hands on some real money. Especially when most folks can’t tell the difference between a counterfeit and the real thing, and the fact that most banks print their own money.” He turned back to Hyatt. “You find a flaw?”

“No, nothing counterfeit about these.” Jarrod turned as Hyatt continued. “These are all genuine.”

“Give me the glass.” Jarrod walked over as Monroe inspected the money, vindication overshadowing the guilt of doubting Brett. “Well, now.” Monroe set down the magnifying glass and looked at Jarrod. “He’s smarter than I thought.”

“Or maybe you’re just a little too eager to find a suspect, Monroe.” Jarrod gathered up the money and tucked it back into his pocket. “Now with all due respect to the Secret Service, I’d appreciate it if you’d take you and your suspicions right out of this valley.” He walked out the door, but Monroe’s voice followed him.

“Mr. Barkley, I still feel I’m right about your friend. I’m gonna stay with him ‘til I get…”

Jarrod slammed the door and cut off the rest of his words.

 

 

Even though his faith in Brett had been vindicated by Hyatt’s pronouncement, Jarrod still couldn’t shake the slight doubt that caused him to invade Brett’s privacy or the guilt that he could ever doubt his friend. He came up with make work so he wouldn’t have to go back to the ranch, be alone with Brett and have his lover realize something was wrong. He finally arrived at the ranch in the late afternoon to find Audra in the buggy and Victoria taking the lines from Ciego. He swung out of the saddle and walked over as the stableman took his horse.

“Oh, Jarrod, I’m glad you’re here,” Victoria greeted. “Audra and I are going to pay a call on Iva since she’s laid up with that sprained ankle. Your brothers sent word they won’t be in for dinner, so I suggested to Brett that the four of us meet in town if that’s all right by you.”

“That sounds fine.” Jarrod leaned over, kissed her cheek and gave Audra a smile. “Maybe you could reserve us a table at the Alhambra Club for, say, 7:30?”

“Oh, could we, Mother?” Audra gushed.

Victoria smiled at her daughter indulgently. “Of course. Jarrod, we’ll see you and Brett there.” 

Jarrod helped her into the buggy and watched them leave before turning to go into the house.

“Mr. Jarrod,” Silas greeted when he came through the door. “Mr. Schuyler asked me to tell you he had some business to take care of and would be back before supper.”

“Thank you, Silas.” Jarrod retreated into the library with an incredible amount of guilt for the relief he felt at not having to face Brett right away. He pulled out his half of the coin and turned it over in his hand.

I know him as well as I know myself. What he’d told Monroe came back to him. And if he still held the same beliefs and values as he did in law school, didn’t it stand to reason that Brett could do the same? At that moment Jarrod decided if he couldn’t believe it of himself, he couldn’t truly believe it of Brett and vowed to put his doubts away and just enjoy being reunited with the man he loved.

 

The sun had set when Jarrod and Brett arrived in town. Dismounting, they tied their horses to the hitching rail and Jarrod took out his watch.

“Ah, Brett my boy, I think we’re just a little bit early for the ladies. What do you say we step into my office over there and I’ll buy you a drink.”

Brett nodded his agreement. “All right.”

They walked in companionable silence across the street to Jarrod’s office. Looking at the sign outside, Jarrod wondered how it would look when they added the name, “Brett Schuyler”.

Jarrod unlocked the door, ushered Brett into the office and went to light the lamp. Brett looked around the office.

“Just like old times, isn’t it, Brett?” Jarrod shook out the match and dropped it into the nearby ashtray. “Remember that jug we used to keep at school?”

“Yeah. A lot of whiskey has gone over the table since then.”

Jarrod looked up at the wistful tone, but Brett was giving him one of those sexy grins as he leaned against a chair. He poured two glasses of amber whiskey. “It sure has.” A warm feeling went through him when their eyes met. “Yes sir, we’ve got a lot of years to catch up on you and me.” Jarrod handed a glass to Brett and walked over to perch on the side of his desk. “So, let’s hear from my well-travelled friend. I want an autobiographical report.” He told himself he wanted to know everything about Brett’s life, but deep down, he knew he was just trying to confirm Brett’s innocence.

Brett leaned an arm against the back of the chair. “Oh, I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

“Well, how about the seven seas, those ships of yours. Where did they sail? East Indies?” Jarrod took a sip of his drink.

“Among other places.”

Jarrod was captivated by the gold flecks in Brett’s eyes, accentuated by the glow of the lamp. “A modern Marco Polo, huh?” He felt a bit of envy at the places Brett must’ve seen. “Or maybe I should say Richard Dana, “Two Years Before The Mast”. You know he didn’t follow his law career either or get rich on his ships, but you…”

Brett came around to sit in the chair. “Well, yes,” and Jarrod’s breath caught at the seductive gleam in Brett’s eyes, “I did pretty well.”

Jarrod’s mind conjured up the image of Brett standing on the bluffs over San Francisco Bay with the wind ruffling his sandy hair. “Y’know, I can see you now with a spyglass up to your eye, watching your ships come in bulging with riches from the Orient. What were their names?” Jarrod drained the last of the whiskey from his glass.

“Oh, they were just chartered, Jarrod.” Jarrod wondered at the uncomfortable look on Brett’s face as he looked at his glass. Maybe Brett hadn’t done as well as he’d implied. “The Lotus, The Condor…” Brett took a long drink.

“Clipper ships?” Jarrod couldn’t quite end the conversation there.

Brett shook his head. “Steam.”

“Oh sure, they’re faster, more profit, huh?” Jarrod decided to stop talking about shipping and move on to something that Brett might seem more optimistic about. “Then what? You just traded it all for land and cattle?”

“One or the other, I don’t remember,” Brett said dismissively.

“Oh come on, boy,” Jarrod cajoled, “jog your memory.”

“Land first, I think.”

“When? What year?”

Brett stared at him steadily. “What is this Jarrod? A cross-examination?”

Jarrod suddenly realized what he was doing. He was cross-examining Brett as a way to assuage his conflicting feelings. “I guess it kind of sounds like that, doesn’t it?” he said, trying to make light of the situation. Getting up, he went over to pour himself another drink, wondering how to apologize to Brett. 

“Say, I’ve some money I want to deposit in town.” Brett abruptly changed the topic but it didn’t make Jarrod feel any better.

“I’ll introduce you at the bank in the morning.” It was the least he could do for his friend.

“Fine. It’s better than keeping it in the false bottom of my valise.”

Somehow, Brett admitting the hidden money made Jarrod feel worse and more relieved at the same time and he knew he had to make Brett the offer he’d been wanting to ever since he arrived.

Jarrod walked back over to the desk. “Y’know, Brett, if you decided to practise law out here,” he perched on the desk and made sure his knee brushed Brett’s, “you won’t be starting from scratch, I can promise you that. As a matter of fact, I’d be glad to have you come in with me.”

“Oh, Jarrod…” Brett looked down, at a loss for words.

“Now you think about it,” Jarrod insisted.

Brett looked up and their eyes locked. Jarrod’s heart started to race and he leaned over to take the glass from Brett’s hand. Placing both glasses on the desk, Jarrod got to his knees in front of Brett and pulled his head down for a long kiss. Brett’s hands twined in his hair and Jarrod tried to memorize every bit of Brett’s mouth. “Maybe I should lock the door,” he said huskily when they broke apart. 

Brett nodded. “Maybe you should.” 

Jarrod got to his feet and went to lock the door. When he turned around, Brett was leaning back against the desk. “Maybe you should close the shades as well.” Jarrod took his time in making sure the large window was completely closed and this time when he turned back, Brett had already stripped off his jacket and shirt.

Jarrod walked up to him slowly, drinking in the sight of Brett’s bare chest. Whatever his lover had been doing, it had kept his body in top condition. Jarrod ran his hands slowly over the well-defined muscles, taking his time to play with the slowly hardening nipples before he moved his hands down Brett’s belly to the front of his pants. He’d been so hungry for Brett the previous night that he hadn’t taken the time appreciate just being able to touch him. Jarrod’s fingers slowly traced the skin above Brett’s waistband and the shiver that went across Brett’s skin sent a tingle through Jarrod as well.

“Jarrod…” Brett moaned.

“Shh,” Jarrod whispered, his lips brushing against Brett’s neck. “Let me enjoy you.” His hands unbuttoned Brett’s pants as he savoured the taste of Brett’s skin. He tugged off his lover’s pants and bent down to remove his own boots and pants all the way before standing back up. Encircling Brett with his arms, Jarrod pushed his hard cock against Brett’s and sighed in contentment. “Nothing matters to me except for the fact that you’re here,” he breathed in Brett’s ear. “I’d love to know every detail of what you did while we were apart, but it doesn’t really matter.”

Brett wrapped his legs around Jarrod and thrust up against him. “God, Jarrod, you feel good.” His fingers dug into Jarrod’s back. “It’s so amazing to be with you again.”

Their swollen cocks strained against each other, their breathing grew more laboured and soon their seed was mingling with the sweat on the groins and bellies. Brett rested his forehead on Jarrod’s shoulder.

“We should probably clean up,” he murmured. “Don’t want to keep your mother and sister waiting.”

Jarrod chuckled and kissed Brett as he moved away. “I’ll grab some water and a towel.” Jarrod’s heart felt easier and he managed to convince himself his doubts about Brett had been banished for good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 come a cropper – fail badly
> 
> 2A graduate of Harvard Law, Richard Dana published “Two Years Before The Mast” in 1840, his memoirs of the time he spent on a sailing ship.


	8. A Time To Destroy

Jarrod smiled as his mother opened Brett’s gift after dinner. After introducing Brett to the bank manager, Luther Kirby, Jarrod was pulled into a dispute between two of his clients and he didn’t get a chance to talk to Brett about his offer of a partnership and what that would entail before the family sat down to dinner.

“Oh, Brett, it’s beautiful,” Victoria exclaimed and sniffed the expensive perfume. “Thank you.”

Brett smiled. “I’m glad you like it. I wasn’t sure.”

“Well, if she didn’t like it, I would,” Audra stated as Victoria handed her the perfume.

Jarrod watched his lover charm the ladies with a smile as he enjoyed an after dinner cigar and decided the time was right to bring up his proposal again. “By the way Brett, have you given any more thought to my offer?”

Brett leaned back in his chair. “Yes, I have, Jarrod, I’ve given it a great deal of thought.” He smiled and Jarrod’s heart leaped. “I’m not quiet sure I understand what it meant.”

“Well, I…” Jarrod was a bit surprised. Brett knew he’d have to have some experience before he could pass the bar and he needed that before he could work as a full-fledged attorney. “I guess it means you’d be coming in as my assistant. It would certainly give you the experience you need.”

Brett’s smile faded. “Searching out precedents, writing first drafts of some of your briefs, that sort of thing.”

Jarrod remembered how both of them had felt about the idea of working as not much more than a glorified clerk to gain admittance to the bar. He’d bypassed that because of his work in the War Department, but he still knew how Brett must be feeling. “Yes, I’m afraid that’s what it would mean.” 

“While you worked on the more important cases,” Brett said bluntly.

Jarrod’s elation faded. “At first, yes. That’s fair enough, isn’t it?” Brett should know him better than to think Jarrod would ever take advantage of his friend, but that was just what he thought was being implied.

“Yes, that’s more than fair, Jarrod,” Brett agreed, but the smile didn’t come back.

Jarrod suddenly felt guilty again. Maybe the doubt that Monroe had started wasn’t completely gone and maybe Brett could sense it. Maybe that was what was making him so uneasy about Jarrod’s motives.

Brett looked around at the family. “Pardon us for talking business at the table,” he apologized before he got to his feet. “And excuse me, I… I have an appointment in town. Don’t bother waiting up for me.”

“Ah hah,” Jarrod said brightly, masking his distress at Brett’s reaction and the fact that he’d probably caused it. “Well, in that case, you’re excused.”

“Good night,” Brett said pleasantly, but Heath was the only one who replied, “Good night”.

Jarrod watched Brett go, his heart in his shoes.

“Well, now.” Nick eyed Jarrod deliberately. “Well, he didn’t exactly keel over with your offer now did he, Jarrod?” Jarrod couldn’t meet Nick’s eyes. “Maybe he didn’t think it was good enough.”

 _Or maybe I’m just not good enough,_ Jarrod thought, _if I can’t stop believing the worst of my best friend without any real evidence._

 

Jarrod did end up waiting up for Brett anyway. The conversation he had with his mother after dinner helped him put things in perspective. He hadn’t confessed his love for the other man to her, only the doubts Monroe’s accusation caused, but he wouldn’t be surprised if that smart and generous lady suspected there was something more between them. Jarrod knew what Brett was capable of, knew that despite his inexperience, the law practice wouldn’t suffer for having Brett as a part of it and decided to offer Brett a full partnership as soon as he returned from his meeting in town.

Jarrod left his door ajar and the lamp lit so Brett would know he was welcome, but Jarrod suddenly awoke with light streaming across his face. He stretched out the cramp he had in his neck from sleeping in his chair and when he saw the sunrise, he realized he must have fallen asleep before Brett returned and the other man had either decided not to disturb him or didn’t come to see him at all. Jarrod was painfully disappointed, but he really couldn’t blame Brett after the mistrust he’d shown him at dinner.

Quickly shaving and dressing, Jarrod masked his disappointment that Brett wasn’t at breakfast yet when he got downstairs. He considered going back up and knocking on Brett’s door, but decided against it. He’d made his offer in front of the family last night and thought it might mean more to offer the new one to Brett in the same way.

Jarrod was just dishing up when he heard the “Good morning,” from the door. Turning, he saw Brett in the doorway as the family greeted his friend.

“Thank you,” Brett responded to the greetings, but his expression was serious. “I’ve got something to say…”

Jarrod hoped it was that Brett had reconsidered, but he didn’t want Brett working with him under the old terms, so he cut him off. “Before you do, Brett, there’s something I’d like to say.” He set his plate on the table. “That offer of mine to take you into the office, it’s withdrawn.” He saw the shock on Brett’s face and hoped it would turn into that smile he loved when he made the new proposal.

Jarrod walked across the room to stand in front of his lover. “Instead, I’m offering you a full partnership.” Brett stood speechless as Jarrod continued. “Now not that you’ll be any bargain for the first year, but knowing what you’re capable of, I’d be wrong to offer you anything less.” He looked Brett in the eyes and hoped Brett could see his sincerity and how much he loved and wanted him. “I want you in with me, Brett, on equal terms, the sooner the better.” He held his breath as he waited for Brett’s response.

Nick spoke up. “Brett, it’s not like Jarrod is giving something away. He’s spent an awful long time looking for just the right man.” Jarrod felt a surge of love for his brother’s support; he knew Nick meant more than just the law practice.

“It’s wonderful to fulfil something I know both of you have always wanted,” Victoria added with a warm smile.

Jarrod couldn’t have been happier and walked back to his place at the table before he forgot himself and kissed Brett in front of the family. “Well, now that that’s settled, what was it you wanted to say?”

Brett didn’t move. He gave a short laugh and shrugged his shoulders. “I hate to say this now… I’m leaving for Denver on the noon train.”

The bottom dropped out of Jarrod’s world. He looked at Brett, almost pleading as Brett said, “I’m sorry, it’s just something I have to do.” There was silence around the table and if looks could kill, Jarrod knew Nick would be facing charges for Brett’s murder. “And I, uh, have a business meeting at the hotel in town, so I’ll have breakfast there.”

Jarrod looked away; he didn’t want Brett to see the hurt on his face. As much as he wanted Brett to stay, he knew it was likely his fault that Brett was leaving, unlike when he’d left for the war when it was no one’s fault.

“I’m all packed, so, uh… I know it’s very sudden…”

Victoria cut him off. “Will you be coming back, Brett?”

Jarrod held his breath, but couldn’t allow himself to hope. Brett’s “I don’t know,” confirmed his fears and it was all Jarrod could do not to bury his face in his hands and cry.

“You’ll be needing the buggy,” Nick growled. Jarrod listened to the angry rattle of spurs as his brother left the room and again knew how blessed he was in his family. He’d survived twelve years without the hope he’d ever see Brett again, he’d continue to survive as long as he had his family around him.

Gathering his composure, Jarrod got up from the table and walked over to Brett. He’d always have a place if he wanted it. “Well, if you do, my offer still stands.”

Brett held his gaze for a moment. Jarrod thought he couldn’t feel any worse until Brett brushed past him without a word to say goodbye to Victoria and walked out of the room with barely a glance to his former lover. If Brett had punched him in the gut, it would have been kinder, but Jarrod couldn’t stop himself from following. 

He heard Nick’s snarl of “Have a good trip,” before met his brother in the foyer. Nick grabbed the back of Jarrod’s neck in a gesture of support and Jarrod managed a smile to let Nick know how much he was appreciated. He knew he shouldn’t but Jarrod walked out the front door anyway and looked at Brett.

“I’m sorry, Jarrod.”

Jarrod didn’t know how he did it, but he managed another smile. “I’m sorry too, Brett, but it’s your decision to make.” They shook hands, a far cry from the farewell Jarrod would have given Brett if they were alone, even though farewell was the last thing he wanted. He stood on the porch and as he watched the buggy take Brett away, Jarrod decided to head into town, lock himself in his office and get stinking drunk where no one could bother him.

Jarrod turned at the sound of running footsteps and saw Silas hurry across the foyer. He looked in the direction the buggy had gone and turned to Jarrod. 

“I found this on the table in Mr. Schuyler’s room.” Jarrod looked uncomprehendingly at the object in Silas’ hand. “I guess he forgot it.”

Jarrod took the half coin. “Thanks, Silas.” He looked down at the symbol of love and friendship he’d carried the other half of for over a decade and this time, he couldn’t stop the tears from rolling down his cheeks.

 

But as he rode into town, Jarrod started to reconsider. Brett had never been shy about voicing his feelings, yet he barely had two words to say to Jarrod that morning. If he’d found out that Jarrod had helped the Secret Service, it would be more in character for Brett to call Jarrod out at the top of his lungs, just like he had when Jarrod signed up to fight for the Union. The Brett Schuyler he knew wasn’t a spiteful or vindictive person and Jarrod couldn’t believe he’d ever hurt him deliberately just because he’d been offended by Jarrod’s offer. By the time he got to Stockton, Jarrod was convinced there was something else going on, he only had to find out what.

He didn’t want to admit it, but maybe Monroe was right. Maybe the way Brett had just brushed him off had something to do with his involvement in some criminal activity. He remembered what the agent had said, that Brett was smarter than he thought, and that he had no trouble believing. Deciding to confront his friend, Jarrod bypassed his office and went straight to the train station.

It was 11:40 and the only people on the platform were two older men and no a sign of Brett anywhere. Suspicions growing, Jarrod went to the ticket window.

“Morning, Ira,” he greeted the ticket agent as he leaned on the counter.

The man looked up from his ledger. “Jarrod.”

Jarrod got right to the point. “Say, does a Mr. Schuyler have a reservation on the noon train?”

“Did have, I believe.” Ira flipped to the proper page and ran his finger down the list. “Yeah, here it is, but he changed it. He’s booked on the midnight now.”

Jarrod suspicions were instantly heightened. “When did he change it?” 

“About an hour ago, I guess.” Ira said. “Checked his bags and rode out someplace.”

Jarrod tried to think of the innocent explanation, that Brett’s meeting got postponed, but that though brought up others. Who exactly was Brett meeting? Jarrod hadn’t asked Brett what sort of business he was doing in town, but if he had, he now doubted Brett would have answered. Which brought up yet another question, what sort of business had to be conducted long enough into the evening for Brett to ask that no one wait up?

“Thanks, Ira.” Jarrod left the station with more questions than answers and decided to go to the hotel and see if he could find out who Brett had met that morning. He was just crossing the street when a familiar voice made him pause.

“Mr. Barkley.” Agent Monroe was leaning against a post with a newspaper in his hand.

“Well, Monroe, I thought you’d left town.”

Monroe smiled as he folded the paper and tucked his pencil back into his pocket. “Nothing I’d like better, only it don’t fit in with my job.”

If it had been the previous day, Jarrod would just have bid the man good day and walked on. But it wasn’t and Jarrod waited to see what else Monroe had to say.

“I hear your friend deposited quite a bit of money across the street the other day.”

Jarrod wasn’t about to let Monroe see his doubts. “That’s right.”

“All he had in his valise, I guess,” Monroe remarked.

Jarrod wondered if some of that money had actually been counterfeit, but if that was the case, why hadn’t Brett been arrested? “I imagine the bank would let you examine it.”

“Oh, I did,” Monroe confirmed. “I did and it’s good money. And that’s a puzzler.” The same puzzle that Jarrod was working on but the pieces didn’t quite fit. Yet. “Now the regular method would be for the counterfeiters to deposit some bad paper and then start making withdrawals of the bank’s good money. But I guess Mr. Schuyler’s got a smaller scheme up his sleeve.” Monroe looked across at the bank. “Course now there’s nothing much I can do about it ‘til that counterfeit starts circulating around town here. But whatever he’s up to, I got a feeling that bank’s gonna be part of it.” Monroe gave Jarrod a steady look before he walked off across the street.

Jarrod wondered if Monroe was giving him a hint, that there was something Jarrod might be able to do to find out what was going on. So instead of going to the hotel first, Jarrod went to the bank. He didn’t know what he’d find, but at this point, anything would he a help.

Jarrod walked past the tellers and straight to Luther.

“Well, Jarrod,” the bank manager greeted with a hearty handshake.

“Hello, Luther.” Jarrod got right down to business. “Has Brett Schuyler been in today?”

“Not far as I know.”

“Well, I thought he might have come in to make a withdrawal.” Jarrod hoped Luther wouldn’t ask why he wanted to know, especially in light of the Secret Service wanting to examine the money.

But Luther didn’t seem the least bit suspicious. “Let me check.” He went out to one of the tellers. Jarrod tried not to pace as he waited, but he couldn’t help it. “No, Jarrod,” the bank manager came back over and told him. “No, sir, he hasn’t been here today. His account’s just the way it was, no more deposits, no withdrawals, except for a couple hundred he withdrew the day you brought him in.” Luther smiled. “But I’m still expecting to do a lot of business with Mr. Schuyler, thanks to you.” Jarrod wondered if Luther would be thanking him in a couple of days. “He told me he was transferring more of his funds here, making his headquarters here in town.”

“Yes, well I…” Jarrod didn’t want to bring Luther down, but he had to be honest. “I wouldn’t count on that, Luther. He’s leaving town today, he might not be back.” Jarrod walked away so his emotions wouldn’t betray him.

“Well, now.” Luther followed Jarrod to the front of the bank and Jarrod had to stop as he kept talking. “That’s too bad. He impressed me as a bright young man, very intelligent about banking. He’s the first man I’ve had in here who knew exactly what kind of steel that vault door’s made of.” That set off alarm bells in Jarrod mind and Luther’s next words solidified his suspicions. It also made him feel a little sick. “He even knew about our electric alarm system.” 

The puzzle pieces were fitting themselves together and Jarrod didn’t like the picture they were making. The only people outside of bankers and those in the security business who generally knew about those kinds of things were those who made a living by breaking into them. 

Luther said something and broke into Jarrod thoughts. “Hmm?” Then he realized Luther must have seen that there was something wrong on his face. “No, no, Luther, nothing.” Jarrod left the bank before he gave away anything else.

The trip to the hotel brought more of the picture into focus. No one remembered seeing Brett and the hotel and restaurant staff were usually very observant. Jarrod took himself back to his office, locked the door and sat at his desk, head sinking into his hands.

Brett had lied to him and that ate away at Jarrod’s heart. How could he have been so wrong? Well, he knew how. It seemed the old proverb ‘love is blind’ was true after all and it had blinded Jarrod into ignoring obvious facts. Brett’s late night meeting, his evasiveness about what he’d been doing over the past twelve years, and most recently, the fact that he’d left with barely a word. Jarrod thought back to their nights of passionate lovemaking and couldn’t reconcile that with Brett’s behaviour this morning, unless it was to throw Jarrod off the trail. 

But if that was the case, it hadn’t worked in the end, all it had succeeded in was breaking Jarrod’s heart, just like Nick had warned him. Jarrod looked at his watch. Brett and whomever he was with wouldn’t make their move on the bank until dark, which was likely why the train reservation had been changed. Jarrod settled in and tried to get some work done while he thought about exactly what it was he was going to do.

 

By the time the sun set, Jarrod knew what he had to do. He checked outside and saw that the streets were almost deserted before he grabbed his gunbelt and buckled it on. Jarrod had decided not to alert Monroe or the sheriff. Innocent until proven guilty was the cornerstone of the justice system and all he had to hang on to was the shred of hope that he was wrong.

He slowly checked to make sure his gun was loaded, but he didn’t know if he could bring himself to shoot Brett. If it was needed to save another, then yes, but if it was his own life, Jarrod didn’t think he could kill his friend.

Jarrod went outside and waited in the shadowed corner beside his office where he had a good view of the bank. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there until a familiar figure came into view from the alley across the street. Jarrod watched as Brett, carrying two money bags, picked the lock of the bank’s door and went inside.

At that moment, Jarrod’s heart broke irrevocably. He remembered back to St. Louis, to the fun and laughter of two carefree young men, to the sweat and tears of law school, and finally to the nights of hot sex, shared passion and the love that they had shared. But he knew now that those times were dead and buried in the past. Jarrod wondered if anything had been true since Brett arrived in Stockton or if his erstwhile friend and lover had just been using him as a means to gain access to the bank.

But friend or not, Jarrod couldn’t let Brett get away with whatever he was planning. He heard the train whistle and knew it was now or never. Stifling the pain of Brett’s betrayal, Jarrod crossed the street and went up to the bank, out of view of the windows. He couldn’t see any movement, but it was dark inside and there was no way of knowing where Brett was. Quietly, he unlatched the door, pushed it open and paused for any sort of reaction. He pulled his gun and silently slipped inside.

Everything was dark and still, with only a glimmer of light from the street lamps, but Jarrod could see that the vault door was half open and he heard movement from inside. He stood in the shadows, trying to steel himself for the confrontation to come. He watched Brett leave the vault and close and lock it behind him and finally, when Brett went to the picture where the battery for the alarm was kept, he moved.

“Hold it right there, Brett.” Jarrod stepped out of the shadows, his gun trained steadily on Brett. He walked through to the gate as Brett stared at him in disbelief. Jarrod slowly took Brett’s half of the coin out of his pocket and looked at it in a silent farewell to everything it stood for. “You forgot this.”

He tossed it to Brett, who caught it easily. Brett looked down at the symbol in his hand. “Funny. First time I’d ever been without it,” he said softly.

Jarrod could see pain etched on Brett’s face and wondered if the emotion was for what he’d thrown away or merely because he’d been caught. Not that it made any difference now. Their bridges had been burned and as much as Jarrod longed for what they’d once had and as much as Brett would always be in his heart, he could never go back. “Hand over your gun,” he ordered.

“Jarrod, let me explain…” Brett started, but Jarrod would have none of it. He hardened his heart, determined not to be hurt again.

“There’s nothing to explain,” he stated bluntly. “Hand over your gun.”

“Get up your hands, both of you.”

Jarrod turned at the unfamiliar voice and saw two men behind him with guns drawn.

“Now, get their guns, Ketchie,” the well dressed man said, “and their money.”

The other man, Ketchie, took Jarrod’s pistol and moved on to Brett.

“Well, we got here just in time.” Jarrod guessed that the man speaking was the leader of the gang Brett belonged to. “This wouldn’t be your friend Barkley, would it?”

Brett remained silent and so did Jarrod. What was there to say, after all?

“And tie them up, Ketchie,” the leader added as Ketchie brought the money bags to him.

“Get your hands behind your back,” Ketchie ordered Jarrod. Jarrod didn’t struggle; he didn’t see the point. He was outnumbered and he could only hope that Brett felt enough for him not to let him be killed without a fight.

Suddenly, the bank’s alarm went off. The two men froze for a moment and then ran out of the bank, grabbing the money on the way. Jarrod shrugged out of the half-tied rope, grabbed his gun and trained it on Brett, who had started to move towards him. He spun around when gunshots were heard from outside and Brett went for the alarm, shutting it off before Jarrod could say a word.

Jarrod followed Brett out of the bank, gun still at the ready. They walked over to the sheriff, who was holding one of the money bags and had his rifle trained on the well-dressed man. Ketchie lay face down in the dirt of the street.

“What’s going on here, Jarrod?” the sheriff demanded to know. “Who’s that?’

Jarrod slowly looked over to Brett. Only two days ago, Jarrod would have said, ‘a very good friend,’ and privately to himself, ‘the man I love’. But that had all been destroyed and Jarrod gave the only answer he could.

“The third member of the gang, sheriff.”

 

Jarrod didn’t really want to admit to Monroe that he was right, but he still saw it at his duty to let the Secret Service man know what happened. To his credit, Monroe didn’t gloat or say I-told-you-so, he just looked grimly pleased and said “Thank God,” before he followed Jarrod to the jail.

Jarrod took the sheriff’s offer of a cup of coffee, more as something to occupy his hands while he decided what to do. He’d already given his statement so there was no really reason for him to stick around, unless…

Jarrod sipped the bitter brew. Could he offer to be Brett’s lawyer after all that had happened? Not and be fair to his client, he decided. Brett had hurt him too badly for him to have his client’s best interests at heart. But Brett still deserved decent representation and out of respect for what they’d once meant to each other, Jarrod would make sure Brett got the best.

He looked up at the sound of the door and was surprised to see Brett and the other man, who’d been identified as Clyde, come out with Monroe and the sheriff. 

“Mr. Barkley, Mr. Schuyler here has told us quite a story,” Monroe told him and the sheriff snorted in disgust. Brett remained silent and wouldn’t meet Jarrod’s eyes. “We’re off to the bank to confirm it, if you’d like to come along.”

Jarrod almost declined, but the strange look in Monroe’s eyes caught his curiosity and he shrugged. “Why not?’

Luther met them at the bank, likely alerted by one of the town’s deputies, and let everyone in to the building before following Monroe into the vault. Jarrod waited outside as they went through the vault and Monroe came back out to check over the contents of the money bags. Brett stood by the tellers’ counter with his back to Jarrod and no one said a word.

The sheriff was telling Jarrod what Brett had told them, that he’d gone into the vault to replace the good money he’d stolen the night before and take the counterfeit away. It was quite the tale and Jarrod didn’t know how much of it he could believe.

“I’ve heard some tall stories before in my time,” the sheriff finished, echoing Jarrod’s thoughts as Monroe walked back over to them, “but this one beats them all. I’ve been trying to figure out what made him think we could possibly swallow a lie as tall as that.”

“It happens to be true,” Monroe told the sheriff brusquely. Jarrod looked up. If Brett was telling the truth… 

Monroe went on. “That money Mr. Barkley saw Schuyler take out of the vault was counterfeit.” 

Brett hadn’t given the sheriff or Monroe a reason, but when Jarrod looked at Brett, he hoped it was that after everything, Brett still had enough feelings for him that he couldn’t go through with a scam that might affect Jarrod and his family.

“Looks like, in a way, we were both right about the man, huh?” Monroe told Jarrod before turning back to the sheriff. “Sheriff, we’ll talk about disposition in the morning.” He walked back into the vault to help Luther set everything back to rights.

Jarrod continued to look at Brett and read a jumble of emotions in his eyes. Guilt, regret, shame, fear… and pain. Pain that was akin to the sorrow Jarrod felt in his own heart. Suddenly, the anger he felt at Brett’s betrayal faded and all Jarrod was left with was pity for the choices Brett had made and an incredible sense of regret for what might have been.

“Fred, I’d… I’d like to have a word with Mr. Schuyler,” he told the sheriff slowly.

“Go ahead, Jarrod,” the lawman readily agreed. “We’ll wait outside.” He signalled to his deputy, who took charge of Clyde and they walked out of the bank, leaving Jarrod and Brett alone.

Nothing could ever be the same, there was no way they could go back and reclaim what they once had, but there was still a way he could honour what they’d meant to each other. “You’re going to need a lawyer,” Jarrod told Brett, knowing he could now defend him with a clear conscience, “would you trust me to do the job?” By bringing the money back, Brett had shown that their friendship still meant something and Jarrod knew he could do no less.

“Why should you?”

“As your friend,” Jarrod offered and was warmed by Brett’s smile.

“I was hoping you’d say that.” Brett turned and walked out to where the sheriff was waiting.

Jarrod watched him go and then pulled out the chain his half of the coin was attached to. As he turned it over in his hand, he remembered something he’d once read. He didn’t know where, but the words came back with a painful clarity and, looking at the coin, Jarrod knew they spoke the truth.

 

You will always have a place in my heart, long after I have left yours.


End file.
